FAUST 



A TRAGEDY 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 

OF 

GOETHE 

WITH NOTES 

BY 

CHARLES T BROOKS 




BOSTON 
TICKNOR AND FIELDS 

M DCCC LVI 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, 

by Charles T. Brooks, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District 
of Rhode Island. 



/2- 3 2,6<\3 



RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 

Stereotyped and Printed 
H. O. Houghton & Co. 



by 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 

Perhaps some apology ought to be given 
to English scholars, that is, those who do 
not know German, (to those, at least, who 
do not know what sort of a thing Faust is 
in the original,) for offering another transla- 
tion to the public, of a poem which has 
been already translated, not only in a literal 
prose form, but also, twenty or thirty times, 
in metre, and sometimes with great spirit, 
beauty, and power. 

The author of the present version, then, 
has no knowledge that a rendering of 'this 
wonderful poem into the exact and ever- 
changing metre of the original has, until 
now, been so much as attempted. To name 
only one defect, the very best versions which 

(5) 



6 



translator's preface. 



he has seen neglect to follow the exquisite 
artist in the evidently planned and orderly 
intermixing of male and female rhymes, i. e. 
rhymes which fall on the last syllable and 
those which fall on the last but one. Now, 
every careful student of the versification of 
Faust must feel and see that Goethe did not 
intersperse the one kind of rhyme with the 
other, at random, as those translators do; 
who, also, give the female rhyme (on which 
the vivacity of dialogue and description often 
so much depends,) in so small a proportion. 

A similar criticism might be made of their 
liberty in neglecting Goethe's method of 
alternating different measures with each other. 

It seems as if, in respect to metre, at 
least, they had asked themselves, how would 
Goethe have written or shaped this in Eng- 
lish, had that been his native language, in- 
stead of seeking con amore (and con fidelita) 
as they should have done, to reproduce, both 
in spirit and in form, the movement, so free 
and yet orderly, of the singularly endowed 
and accomplished poet whom they under- 
took to represent. 



translator's preface. 



7 



As to the objections which Hay ward and 
some of his reviewers have instituted in ad- 
vance against the possibility of a good and 
faithful metrical translation of a poem like 
Faust, they seem to the present translator 
full of paradox and sophistry. For instance, 
take this assertion of one of the reviewers: 
" The sacred and mysterious union of thought 
with verse, twin-born and immortally wedded 
from the moment of their common birth, 
can never be understood by those who de- 
sire verse translations of good poetry." If 
the last part of this statement had read " by 
those who can be contented with prose trans- 
lations of good poetry," the position would 
have been nearer the truth. This much we 
might well admit, that, if the alternative 
were either to have a poem like Faust in a 
metre different and glaringly different from 
the original, or to have it in simple and 
strong prose, then the latter alternative would 
be the one every tasteful and feeling scholar 
would prefer; but surely to every one who 
can read the original or wants to know how 
this great song sung itself (as Carlyle says) 



8 



translator's preface. 



out of Goethe's soul, a mere prose render- 
ing must be, comparatively, a corpus mor~ 
tuum. 

The translator most heartily dissents from 
Hayward's assertion that a translator of 
Faust " must sacrifice either metre or mean- 
ing." At least he flatters himself that he 
has made, in the main, (not a compromise 
between meaning and melody, though in 
certain instances he may have fallen into 
that, but) a combination of the meaning 
with the melody, which latter is so impor- 
tant, so vital a part of the lyric poem's 
meaning, in any worthy sense. " No poetic 
translation," says Hayward's reviewer, already 
quoted, 44 can give the rhythm and rhyme 
of the original; it can only substitute the 
rhythm and rhyme of the translator." One 
might just as well say 44 no prose translation 
can give the sense and spirit of the original ; 
it can only substitute the sense and spirit 
of the words and phrases of the translator's 
language;" and then, these two assertions 
balancing each other, there will remain in 
the metrical translator's favor, that he may 



translator's preface. 9 

come as near to giving both the letter and 
the spirit, as the effects of the Babel disper- 
sion will allow. 

As to the original creation which he has 
attempted here to reproduce, the translator 
might say something, but prefers leaving 
his readers to the poet himself, as revealed 
in the poem, and to the various commen- 
taries of which we have some accounts, at 
least, in English. A French translator of 
the poem speaks in his introduction as fol- 
lows : " This Faust, conceived by him in 
his youth, completed in ripe age, the idea 
of which he carried with him through all 
the commotions of his life, as Camoens 
bore his poem with him through the waves, 
this Faust contains him entire. The thirst 
for knowledge and the martyrdom of doubt, 
had they not tormented his early years? 
Whence came to him the thought of tak- 
ing refuge in a supernatural realm, of ap- 
pealing to invisible powers, which plunged 
him, for a considerable time, into the dreams 
of Illuminati and made him even invent a 
religion? This irony of Mephistopheles, 



10 



TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. 



who carries on so audacious a game with 
the weakness and the desires of man, is it 
not the mocking, scornful side of the poet's 
spirit, a leaning to sullenness, which can be 
traced even into the earliest years of his 
life, a bitter leaven thrown into a strong 
soul forever by early satiety ? The character 
of Faust especially, the man whose burning, 
untiring heart can neither enjoy fortune nor 
do without it, who gives himself uncondi- 
tionally and watches himself with mistrust, 
who unites the enthusiasm of passion and 
the dejectedness of despair, is not this an 
eloquent opening up of the most secret and 
tumultuous part of the poet's soul? And 
now, to complete the image of his inner 
life, he has added the transcendingly sweet 
person of Margaret, an exalted reminiscence 
of a young girl, by whom, at the age of 
fourteen, he thought himself beloved, whose 
image ever floated round him, and has con- 
tributed some traits to each of his heroines. 
This heavenly surrender of a simple, good, 
and tender heart contrasts wonderfully with 
the sensual and gloomy passion of the lover, 



translator's preface. 



1 1 



who, in the midst of his love-dreams, is per- 
secuted by the phantoms of his imagination 
and by the nightmares of thought, with 
those sorrows of a soul, which is crushed, 
but not extinguished, which is tormented 
by the invincible want of happiness and 
the bitter feeling, how hard a thing it is 
to receive or to bestow." 



DEDICATION. 1 



Once more ye waver dreamily before me, 
Forms that so early cheered my troubled eyes ! 
To hold you faft doth Mill my heart implore me ? 
Still bid me clutch the charm that lures and flies ? 
Ye crowd around ! come, then, hold empire o'er me, 
As from the mift and haze of thought ye rise ; 
The magic atmosphere, your train enwreathing, 
Through my thrilled bosom youthful bliss is breathing. 

Ye bring with you the forms of hours Elysian, 
And shades, of dear ones rise to meet my gaze ; 
Firft Love and Friendship Ileal upon my vision 
Like an old tale of legendary days ; 
Sorrow renewed, in mournful repetition, 
Runs through life's devious, labyrinthine ways ; 
And, sighing, names the good (by Fortune cheated 
Of blissful hours !) who have before me fleeted. 
(i3) 



DEDICATION. 



These later songs of mine, alas ! will never 
Sound in their ears to whom the firft were sung ! 
Scattered like duft, the friendly throng forever ! 
Mute the firft echo that so grateful rung ! 
To the ftrange crowd I sing, whose very favor 
Like chilling sadness on my heart is flung ; 
And all that kindled at those earlier numbers 
Roams the wide earth or in its bosom slumbers. 

And now I feel a long-unwonted yearning 

For that calm, pensive spirit-realm, to-day ; 

Like an iEolian lyre, (the breeze returning,) 

Floats in uncertain tones my lisping lay ; 

Strange awe comes o'er me, tear on tear falls burning, 

The rigid heart to milder mood gives way ; 

What I possess I see afar off lying, 

And what I loft is real and undying. 



PRELUDE 



IN THE THEATRE. 

Manager. Dramatic Poet. Merry Person. 

Manager. You who in trouble and diftress 
Have both held faft your old allegiance, 
What think ye ? here in German regions 
Our enterprise may hope success ? 
To please the crowd my purpose has been fteady, 
Because they live and let one live at leaft. 
The pofts are set, the boards are laid already, 
And every one is looking for a feaft. 
They sit, with lifted brows, composed looks wearing, 
Expecting something that mail set them ftaring. 
I know the public palate, that's confeft ; 
Yet never pined so for a sound suggeftion ; 
True, they are not accuftomed to the beft, 
But they have read a dreadful deal, paft queftion. 
How mall we work to make all frefh and new, 
Acceptable and profitable, too ? 

(i5) 



i6 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 



For sure I love to see the torrent boiling, 
When towards our booth they crowd to find a place, 
Now rolling on a space and then recoiling, 
Then squeezing through the narrow door of grace : 
Long before dark each one his hard-fought ftation 
In sight of the box-office window takes, 
And as, round bakers' doors men crowd to escape 
ftarvation, 

For tickets here they almoft break their necks. 
This wonder, on so mixed a mass, the Poet 
Alone can work; to-day, my friend, O, show it! 

Poet. Oh speak not to me of that motley ocean, 
Whose roar and greed the fhuddering spirit chill ! 
Hide from my sight that billowy commotion 
That draws us down the whirlpool 'gainft our will. 
No, lead me to that nook of calm devotion, 
Where blooms pure joy upon the Muses' hill ; 
Where love and friendfhip aye create and cherifh, 
With hand divine, heart-joys that never perim. 
Ah ! what, from feeling's deepeft fountain spring- 
in g> 

Scarce from the ftammering lips had faintly passed, 

Now, hopeful, venturing forth, now fhyly clinging, 

To the wild moment's cry a prey is caft. 

Oft when for years the brain had heard it ringing 

It comes in full and rounded fhape at laft. 

What mines, is bom but for the moment's pleasure ; 

The genuine leaves pofterity a treasure. 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 1 7 

Merry Person. Pofterity ! I'm sick of hearing 
of it ; 

Supposing I the future age would profit, 
Who then would furnifh ours with fun ? 
For it muft have it, ripe and mellow ; 
The presence of a fine young fellow, 
Is cheering, too, methinks, to any one. 
Whoso can pleasantly communicate, 
Will not make war with popular caprices, 
For, as the circle waxes great, 
The power his word mall wield increases. 
Come, then, and let us now a model see, 
Let Phantasy with all her various choir, 
Sense, reason, passion, sensibility, 
But, mark me, folly too ! the scene inspire. 

Manager. But the great point is action ! Every 
one 

Comes as spectator, and the fhow's the fun. 

Let but the plot be spun off fail and thickly, 

So that the crowd mall gape in broad surprise, 

Then have you made a wide impression quickly, 

You are the man they'll idolize. 

The mass can only be impressed by masses ; 

Then each at laft picks out his proper part. 

Give much, and then to each one something passes, 

And each one leaves the house with happy heart. 

Have you a piece, give it at once in pieces ! 

Such a ragout your fame increases ; 



l8 PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 

It cofts as little pains to play as to invent. 
But what is gained, if you a whole present ? 
Your public picks it presently to pieces. 

Poet. You do not feel how mean a trade like 
that must be ! 
In the true Artift's eyes how false and hollow ! 
Our genteel botchers, well I see, 
Have given the maxims that you follow. 

Manager. Such charges pass me like the idle 
wind ; 

A man who has right work in mind 
Muft choose the inftruments moll fitting. 
Consider what soft wood you have for splitting, 
And keep in view for whom you write ! 
If this one from ennui seeks flight, 
That other comes full from the groaning table, 
Or, the worft case of all to cite, 
From reading journals is for thought unable. 
Vacant and giddy, all agog for wonder, 
As to a masquerade they wing their way ; 
The ladies give themselves and all their precious 
plunder 

And without wages help us play. 
On your poetic heights what dream comes o'er 
you ? 

What glads a crowded house ? Behold 
Your patrons in array before you ! 
One half are raw, the other cold. 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 19 

One, after this play, hopes to play at cards, 

One a wild night to spend beside his doxy chooses, 

Poor fools, why court ye the regards, 

For such a set, of the chafte muses ? 

I tell you, give them more and ever more and more, 

And then your mark you'll hardly ftray from ever ; 

To myftify be your endeavor, 

To satisfy is labor sore 

What ails you ? Are you pleased or pained ? What 
notion — 

Poet. Go to, and find thyself another slave ! 
What ! and the lofty birthright Nature gave, 
The nobleft. talent Heaven to man has lent, 
Thou bid'ft the Poet fling to folly's ocean ! 
How does he ftir each deep emotion ? 
How does he conquer every element ? 
But by the tide of song that from his bosom springs, 
And draws into his heart all living things ? 
When Nature's hand, in endless iteration, 
The thread across the whizzing spindle flings, 
When the complex, monotonous creation 
Jangles with all its million firings : 
Who, then, the long, dull series animating, 
Breaks into rhythmic march the soulless round ? 
And, to the law of All each member consecrating, 
Bids one majeftic harmony resound ? 
Who bids the tempeft rage with passion's power? 
The earnefl: soul with evening-redness glow ? 



20 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 



Who scatters vernal bud and summer flowei 
Along the path where loved ones go ? 
Who weaves each green leaf in the wind that trem- 
bles 

To form the wreath that merit's brow mall crown ? 
Who makes Olympus faft ? the gods assembles ? 
The power of manhood in the Poet mown. 

Merry Person. Come, then, put forth these noble 
powers, 

And, Poet, let thy path of flowers 

Follow a love-adventure's winding ways. 

One comes and sees by chance, one burns, one ftays, 

And feels the gradual, sweet entangling ! 

The pleasure grows, then comes a sudden jangling, 

Then rapture, then diftress an arrow plants, 

And ere one dreams of it, lo ! there is a romance. 

Give us a drama in this fafhion ! 

Plunge into human life's full sea of passion ! 

Each lives it, few its meaning ever guessed, 

Touch where you will, 'tis full of intereft. 

Bright fhadows fleeting o'er a mirror, 

A spark of truth and clouds of error, 

By means like these a drink is brewed 

To cheer and edify the multitude. 

The fairefl: flower of the youth sit listening 

Before your play, and wait the revelation ; 

Each melancholy heart, with soft eyes gliftening, 

Draws sad, sweet nourifhment from your creation ; 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 



21 



This passion now, now that is ftirred, by turns, 
And each one sees what in his bosom burns. 
Open alike, as yet, to weeping and to laughter, 
They ftill admire the flights, they ftill enjoy the mow ; 
Him who is formed, can nothing suit thereafter ; 
The yet unformed with thanks will ever glow. 

Poet. Ay, give me back the joyous hours, 
When I myself was ripening, too, 
When song, the fount, flung up its mowers 
Of beauty ever frefli and new. 
When a soft haze the world was veiling, 
Each bud a miracle bespoke, 

And from their flems a thousand flowers I broke, 
Their fragrance through the vales exhaling. 
I nothing and yet all possessed, 
Yearning for truth and in illusion bleft. 
Give me the freedom of that hour, 
The tear of joy, the pleasing pain, 
Of hate and love the thrilling power, 
Oh, give me back my youth again ! 

Merry Person. Youth, my good friend, thou 
needeft certainly 
When ambufhed foes are on thee springing, 
When lovelieft maidens witchingly 
Their white arms round thy neck are flinging, 
When the far garland meets thy glance, 
High on the race-ground's goal suspended, 
When after many a mazy dance 



22 PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 

In drink and song the night is ended. 
But with a free and graceful soul 
To ftrike the old familiar lyre, 
And to a self-appointed goal 
Sweep lightly o'er the trembling wire. 
There lies, old gentlemen, to-day 
Your talk j fear not, no vulgar error blinds us. 
Age does not make us childifh, as they say, 
But we are ftill true children when it finds us. 
Manager. Come, words enough you two 
bandied, 

Now let us see some deeds at laft ; 

While you toss compliments full-handed, 

The time for useful work flies faft. 

Why talk of being in the humor ? 

Who hesitates will never be. 

If you are poets (so says rumor) 

Now then command your poetry. 

You know full well our need and pleasure, 

We want ftrong drink in brimming measure ; 

Brew at it now without delay ! 

To-morrow will not do what is not done to-day. 

Let not a day be loft in dallying, 

But seize the possibility 

Right by the forelock, courage rallying, 

And forth with fearless spirit sallying, — 

Once in the yoke and you are free. 



PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. 23 

Upon our German boards, you know it, 
What any one would try, he may ; 
Then ftint me not, I beg, to-day, 
In scenery or machinery, Poet. 
With great and lesser heavenly lights make free, 
Spend ftarlight juft as you desire ; 
No want of water, rocks or fire 
Or birds or beafts to you mail be. 
So, in this narrow wooden house's bound, 
Stride through the whole creation's round, 
And with considerate swiftness wander 
From heaven, through this world, to the world down 
yonder. 



PROLOGUE 



IN HEAVEN. 

[The Lord. The Heavenly Hosts afterward Mephis- 
topheles. "The three archangels, Raphael, Gabriel, and 
Michael, come forward^ 

Raphael. The sun, in ancient wise, is sounding, 

With brother-spheres, in rival song ; 
And, his appointed journey rounding, 

With thunderous movement rolls along. 
His look, new ftrength to angels lending, 

No creature fathom can for aye ; 
The lofty works, pail comprehending, 

Stand lordly, as on time's firft day. 
Gabriel. And swift, with wondrous swiftness fleet- 
ing. 

The pomp of earth turns round and round, 
The glow of Eden alternating 

With fhuddering midnight's gloom profound ; 
Up o'er the rocks the foaming ocean 

Heaves from its old, primeval bed, 
And rocks and seas, with endless motion, 

On in the spheral sweep are sped. 

* 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 25 

Michael. And tempefts roar, glad warfare waging, 

From sea to land, from land to sea, 
And bind round all, amidft their raging, 

A chain of giant energy. 
There, lurid desolation, blazing, 

Foreruns the volleyed thunder's way : 
Yet, Lord, thy messengers 2 are praising 

The mild procession of thy day. 
All Three. The sight new ftrength to angels 
lendeth, 

For none thy being fathom may, 
The works, no angel comprehendeth, 

Stand lordly as on time's firft day. 
Mephi/lopheles. Since, Lord, thou draweft near us 
once again, 
And how we do, doft graciously inquire, 
And to be pleased to see me once didft deign, 
I too among thy household venture nigher. 
Pardon, high words I cannot labor after, 
Though the whole court mould look on me with 
scorn ; 

My pathos certainly would ftir thy laughter, 
Hadft thou not laughter long since quite forsworn. 
Of sun and worlds I've nought to tell worth mention, 
How men torment themselves takes my attention. 
The little God o' the world jogs on the same old 
way 

And is as singular as on the world's firft day. 



26 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 



A pity 'tis thou fhouldft have given 

The fool, to make him worse, a gleam of light from 

heaven ; 
He calls it reason, using it 
To be more beaft than ever beaft was yet. 
He seems to me, (your grace the word will pardon,) 
Like a long-legg'd grasshopper in the garden, 
Forever on the wing, and hops and sings 
The same old song, as in the grass he springs ; 
Would he but ftay there ! no ; he needs muft muddle 
His prying nose in every puddle. 

The Lord. Haft nothing for our edification ? 
Still thy old work of accusation ? 
Will things on earth be never right for theie ? 

Mephijiopheles. No, Lord ! I find them ftill as 

bad as bad can be. 
Poor souls ! their miseries seem so much to please 

'em, 

I scarce can find it in my heart to tease 'em. 

The Lord. Knoweft thou Fauft ? 

Mephijiopheles. The Doftor ? 

The Lord. Ay, my servant ! 

Mephijiopheles. He ! 

Forsooth ! he serves you in a famous fafhion ; 
No earthly meat or drink can feed his passion ; 
Its grasping greed no space can measure ; 
Half-conscious and half-crazed, he finds no reft; 
The faireft ftars of heaven muft swell his treasure, 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 27 

Each higheft joy of earth muft yield its zeft, 
Not all the world — the boundless azure — 
Can fill the void within his craving breaft. 

The Lord. He serves me somewhat darkly, now, 
I grant, 

Yet will he soon attain the light of reason. 
Sees not the gardener, in the green young plant, 
That bloom and fruit mail deck its coming season ? 

Mephiftopheles. What will you bet ? You'll surely 
lose your wager ! 
If you will give me leave henceforth, 
To lead him softly on, like an old ftager. 

The Lord. So long as he fhall live on earth, 
Do with him all that you desire. 
Man errs and ftaggers from his birth. 

Mephiftopheles. Thank you ; I never did aspire 
To have with dead folk much transaction. 
In full frefh cheeks I take the greater!: satisfaction. 
A corpse will never find me in the house ; 
I love to play as puss does with the mouse. 

The Lord. All right, I give thee full permis- 
sion ! 

Draw down this spirit from its source, 
And, canft thou catch him, to perdition 
Carry him with thee in thy course, 
But ftand abamed, if thou muft needs confess, 
That a good man, e'en in his worft condition, 
Has of the right way ftill a consciousness. 



28 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 



Mephiftopheles. Good ! but I'll make it a fliort 
ftory. 

About my wager I'm by no means sorry. 

And if I gain my end with glory 

Allow me to exult from a full breaft. 

Duft mall he eat and that with zeft, 

Like my old aunt, the snake, whose fame is hoary. 

The Lord. Well, go and come, and make thy trial ; 
The like of thee I never yet did hate. 
Of all the spirits of denial 
The scamp is he I beft can tolerate. 
Man is too prone, at beft, to seek the way that's easy, 
He soon grows fond of unconditioned reft ; 
And therefore such a comrade suits him beft, 
Who spurs and works, true devil, always busy. 
But you, true sons of God, in growing measure, 
Enjoy rich beauty's living ftores of pleasure ! 
The Word 3 divine that lives and works for aye, 
Fold you in boundless love's embrace alluring, 
And what in floating vision glides away, 
That seize ye and make faft with thoughts enduring. 

[Heaven closes, the archangels disperse.'] 

Mephiftopheles. [Alone. .] I like at times to ex- 
change with him a word, 
And take care not to break with him. 'Tis civil 
In the old fellow 4 and so great a Lord 
To talk so kindly with the very devil. 



FAUST. 



m 

Night. In a narro-iv bigh-arched Gothic room, Faust sitting 
uneasy at his desk. 

Fauft. Have now, alas ! quite studied through 
Philosophy and Medicine, 
And Law, and ah ! Theology, too, 
With hot desire the truth to win ! 
And here, at laft, I ftand, poor fool ! 
As wise as when I entered school 5 
Am called Magifler, Doctor, indeed, — 
Ten livelong years cease not to lead 
Backward and forward, to and fro, 
My scholars by the nose — and lo ! 
Jufl: nothing, I see, is the sum of our learning, 
To the very core of my heart 'tis burning. 
'Tis true I'm more clever than all the foplings, 
Doctors, Magifters, Authors, and Popelings ; 
Am plagued by no scruple, nor doubt, nor cavil, 
Nor lingering fear of hell or devil — 
What then ? all pleasure is fled forever ; 
To know one thing I vainly endeavor, 
There's nothing wherein one fellow-creature 
Could be mended or bettered with me for a teacher. 
(29) 



30 



FAUST. 



And then, too, nor goods nor gold have I, 

Nor fame nor worldly dignity, — 

A condition no dog could longer live in ! 

And so to magic my soul I've given, 

If, haply, by spirits' mouth and might, 

Some myfteries may not be brought to light ; 

That to teach, no longer may be my lot, 

With bitter sweat, what I need to be taught j 

That I may know what the world contains 

In its innermost heart and finer veins, 

See all its energies and seeds 

And deal no more in words but in deeds. 

O full, round Moon, didft thou but mine 
For the laft time on this woe of mine ! 
Thou whom so many a midnight I 
Have watched, at this defk, come up the fky : 
O'er books and papers, a dreary pile, 
Then, mournful friend ! uprose thy smile ! 
Oh that I might on the mountain-height, 
Walk in the noon of thy blessed light, 
Round mountain-caverns with spirits hover, 
Float in thy gleamings the meadows over, 
And freed from the fumes of a lore-crammed brain, 
Bathe in thy dew and be well again ! 

Woe ! and these walls ftill prison me ? 
Dull, dismal hole ! my curse on thee ! 
Where heaven's own light, with its blessed beams, 
Through painted panes all sickly gleams ! 



FAUST. 



31 



Hemmed in by these old book-piles tall, 
Which, gnawed by worms and deep in muft, 
Rise to the roof against a wall 
Of smoke-stained paper, thick with duft ; 
'Mid glasses, boxes, where eye can see, 
Filled with old, obsolete instruments, 
Stuffed with old heirlooms of implements — 
That is thy world ! There's a world for thee ! 

And still doft afk what llifles so 
The fluttering heart within thy breaft ? 
By what inexplicable woe 
The springs of life are all oppressed ? 
Instead of living nature, where 
God made and planted men, his sons, 
Through smoke and mould, around thee stare 
Grim fkeletons and dead men's bones. 

Up ! Fly ! Far out into the land ! 
And this myfterious volume, see ! 
By Noftradamus's 5 own hand, 
Is it not guide enough for thee ? 
Then malt thou thread the ftarry fkies, 
And, taught by nature in her walks, 
The spirit's might shall o'er thee rise, 
As ghoft to gholt. familiar talks. 
Vain hope that mere dry sense mould here 
Explain the holy signs to thee. 
I feel you, spirits, hovering near ; 
Oh, if you hear me, answer me ! 

[He opens the book and beholds the sign of the Macrocosm. 1 ^] 



32 



FAUST. 



Ha! as 1 gaze, what ecftasy is this, 

In one full tide through all my senses flowing ! 

I feel a new-born life, a holy bliss 

Through nerves and veins myfteriously glowing. 

Was it a God who wrote each sign ? 

Which, all my inner tumult frilling, 

And this poor heart with rapture filling, 

Reveals to me, by force divine, 

Great Nature's energies around and through me 
thrilling ? 

Am I a God ? It grows so bright to me ! 
Each character on which my eye reposes 
Nature in acT: before my soul discloses. 
The sage's word was truth, at laft I see : 
" The spirit-world, unbarred, is waiting ; 
Thy sense is locked, thy heart is dead ! 
Up, scholar, bathe, unhesitating, 
The earthly breaft in morning-red ! " 

[He contemplates the sign.~] 
How all one whole harmonious weaves, 
Each in the other works and lives ! 
See heavenly powers ascending and descending, 
The golden buckets, one long line, extending ! 
See them with bliss-exhaling pinions winging 
Their way from heaven through earth — their singing 
Harmonious through the universe is ringing ! 

Majeftic mow ! but ah ! a mow alone ! 
Nature ! where find I thee, immense, unknown ? 
Where you, ye breafts ? Ye founts all life suftaining, 



FAUST. 



33 



On which hang heaven and earth, and where 

Men's withered hearts their wafte repair — 

Ye gufh, ye nurse, and I muft sit complaining ? 

[He opens reluctantly the book and sees the sign of the earth- 
spirit^ 

How differently works on me this sign ! 

Thou, spirit of the earth, art to me nearer ; 

I feel my powers already higher, clearer, 

I glow already as with new-pressed wine, 

I feel the mood to brave life's ceaseless claming, 

To bear its frowning woes, its raptures flafhing, 

To mingle in the tempeft's darning, 

And not to tremble in the fhipwreck's crafhing ; 

Clouds gather o'er my head — 

The moon conceals her light — 

The lamp goes out ! 

It smokes ! — Red rays are darting, quivering 
Around my head — comes down 
A horror from the vaulted roof 
And seizes me ! 

Spirit that I invoked, thou near me art, 
Unveil thyself! 

Ha ! what a tearing in my heart ! 
Upheaved like an ocean 
My senses toss with ftrange emotion ! 
I feel my heart to thee entirely given ! 
Thou muft ! and though the price were life — were 
heaven ! 

3 



34 



FAUST. 



[He seizes the book and pt onounces mysteriously the sign of the 
spirit. A ruddy flame darts out, the spirit appears in the 
flameJ\ 

Spirit. Who calls upon me ? 

Faufl. [Turning away.] 

Horrid sight ! 

Spirit. Long have I felt the mighty action, 
Upon my sphere, of thy attraction, 
And now — 

Fauft. Away, intolerable sprite ! 

Spirit. Thou breath'st a panting supplication 
To hear my voice, my face to see ; 
Thy mighty prayer prevails on me, 
I come ! — what miserable agitation 
Seizes this demigod ! Where is the cry of thought ? 
Where is the breaft ? that in itself a world begot, 
And bore and cherished, that with joy did tremble 
And fondly dream us spirits to resemble. 
Where art thou, Faufl: ? whose voice rang through 
my ear, 

Whose mighty yearning drew me from my sphere ? 
Is this thing thou ? that, blafted by my breath, 
Through all life's windings muddereth, 
A shrinking, cringing, writhing worm ! 

Faufl. Thee, flame-born creature, (hall I fear ? 
'Tis I, 'tis Fauft, behold thy peer ! 

Spirit. In life's tide currents, in action's ftorm, 
Up and down, like a wave, 
Like the wind I sweep ! 



FAUST. 



35 



Cradle and grave — 
A limitless deep — 
An endless weaving 
To and fro, 
A reftless heaving 
Of life and glow, — 

So fliape I, on Deftiny's thundering loom, 
The Godhead's live garment, eternal in bloom. 

Fauji. Spirit that sweep'fl the world from end to 
end, 

How near, this hour, I feel myself to thee ! 

Spirit. Thou'rt like the spirit thou canft com- 
prehend, 

Not me ! [Vanijhes. 
Fauft. [Collapsing.] Not thee ? 
Whom then ? 
I, image of the Godhead, 
And no peer for thee ! 
[A knocking.'] 

Death ! I know it ! — 'tis my Famulus — 7 
Good-bye, ye dreams of bliss Elysian ! 
Shame ! that so many a glowing vision 
This dried-up sneak muft scatter thus ! 

[Wagner, in sleeping-gown and night-cap, a lamp in his 
hand. Faust turns round <zvith an annoyed look.'] 

Wagner. Excuse me ! you're engaged in declama- 
tion ; 

'Twas a Greek tragedy no doubt you read ? 

1 in this art §fiould like initiation, 



36 



FAUST. 



For nowadays it ftands one well inftead. 
I've often heard them boaft, a preacher 
Might profit with a player for his teacher. 

Fauft. Yes, when the preacher is a player, 
granted : 

As often happens in our modern ways. 

Wagner. Ah ! when one with such love of ftudy's 
haunted, 

And scarcely sees the world on holidays, 
And takes a spy-glass, as it were, to read it, 
How can one by persuasion hope to lead it ? 

Fauft. What you don't feel, you'll never catch by 
hunting, 

It muft gum out spontaneous from the soul, 

And with a frefh delight enchanting 

The hearts of all that hear control. 

Sit there forever ! Thaw your glue-pot, — 

Blow up your afh-heap to a flame, and brew, 

With a dull fire, in your ftew-pot, 

Of other men's leavings a ragout ! 

Children and apes will gaze delighted, 

If their critiques can pleasure impart ; 

But never a heart will be ignited, 

Comes not the spark from the speaker's heart. 

Wagner. Delivery makes the orator's success ; 
There I'm ftill far behindhand, I confess. 

Fauft. Seek honefl: gains, without pretence ! 
Be not a cymbal-tinkling fool ! 



FAUST. 



37 



Sound underftanding and good sense 

Speak out with little art or rule ; 

And when you've something earner!: to utter, 

Why hunt for words in such a flutter ? 

Yes, your discourses, that are so refined, 

In which humanity's poor fhreds you frizzle, 

Are unrefrefhing as the mift and wind 

That through the withered leaves of autumn whittle ! 

Wagner. Ah God ! well, art is long ! 
And life is fhort and fleeting. 

What headaches have I felt and what heart-beating, 

When critical desire was ftrong. 

How hard it is the ways and means to mafter 

By which one gains each fountain-head ! 

And ere one yet has half the journey sped, 

The poor fool dies — O sad disafter ! 

Faujl. Is parchment, then, the holy well-spring, 
thinkeft, 

A draught from which thy thirft forever slakes ? 

No quickening element thou drinkeft, 

Till up from thine own soul the fountain breaks. 

Wagner. Excuse me ! in these olden pages 
We catch the spirit of the by-gone ages, 
We see what wiseft men before our day have thought, 
And to what glorious heights we their bequefts have 
brought. 

Fauft. O yes, we've reached the ftars at laft ! 
My friend, it is to us, — the buried paft, — 



38 



FAUST. 



A book with seven seals protected ; 

Your spirit of the times is, then. 

At bottom, your own spirit, gentlemen, 

In which the times are seen reflected. 

And often such a mess that none can bear it ; 

At the firft sight of it they run away. 

A duft-bin and a lumber-garret, 

At moft a mock-heroic play 8 

With fine, pragmatic maxims teeming, 

The mouths of puppets well-beseeming ! 

Wagner. But then the world ! the heart and mind 
of man ! 

To know of these who would not pay attention ? 

Fauji. To know them, yes, as weaklings can! 
Who dares the child's true name outright to mention ? 
The few who any thing thereof have learned, 
Who out of their heart's fulness needs muft gabble, 
And show their thoughts and feelings to the rabble, 
Have evermore been crucified and burned. 
I pray you, friend, 'tis wearing into night, 
Let us adjourn here, for the present. 

Wagner. I had been glad to ftay till morning 
light, 

This learned talk with you has been so pleasant, 
But the firft day of E after comes to-morrow. 
And then an hour or two I'll borrow. 
With zeal have I applied myself to learning, 
True, I know much, yet to know all am burning. 

[Exit.] 



FAUST. 



39 



Fauft. \Alone.\ See how in his head only, hope 
ftill lingers, 
Who evermore to empty rubbifh clings, 
With greedy hand grubs after precious things, 
And leaps for joy when some poor worm he fingers ! 

That such a human voice mould dare intrude, 
Where all was full of ghoftly tones and features ! 
Yet ah ! this once, my gratitude 
Is due to thee, moft wretched of earth's creatures. 
Thou snatchedft me from the despairing state 
In which my senses, well nigh crazed, were*sunken. 
The apparition was so giant-great, 
That to a very dwarf my soul had fhrunken. 

I, godlike, who in fancy saw but now 
Eternal truth's fair glass in wondrous nearness, 
Rejoiced in heavenly radiance and clearness, 
Leaving the earthly man below ; 
I, more than cherub, whose free force 
Dreamed, through the veins of nature penetrating, 
To tafte the life of Gods, like them creating, 
Behold me this presumption expiating! 
A word of thunder sweeps me from my course. 

Myself with thee no longer dare I measure ; 
Had I the power to draw thee down at pleasure ; 
To hold thee here I ftill had not the force. 
Oh, in that bleft, ecftatic hour, 
I felt myself so small, so great ; 
Thou droveft me with cruel power 
Back upon man's uncertain fate. 



4 o 



FAUST. 



What mall I do ? what fhun, thus lonely ? 
That impulse muff I, then, obey ? 
Alas ! our very deeds, and not our sufferings only, 
How do they hem and choke life's way! 

To all the mind conceives of great and glorious 
A ftrange and baser mixture ftill adheres ; 
Striving for earthly good are we victorious ? 
A dream and cheat the better part appears. 
The feelings that could once such noble life inspire 
Are quenched and trampled out in passion's mire. 

Whore Fantasy, erewhile, with daring flight 
Out to the infinite her wings expanded, 
A little space can now suffice her quite, 
When hope on hope time's gulf has wrecked and 
ftranded. 

Care builds her neft far down the heart's recesses, 
There broods o'er dark, untold distresses, 
Reftless me sits, and scares thy joy and peace away ; 
She puts on some new mafk with each new day, 
Herself as house and home, as wife and child pre- 
senting, 

As fire and water, bane and blade ; 
What never hits makes thee afraid, 
And what is never loft fhe keeps thee flill lament- 
ing. 

Not like the Gods am I ! Too deep that truth is 
thruft ! 

But like the worm, that wriggles through the duft ; 



FAUST. 41 

Who, as along the duft for food he feels, 
Is cruflied and buried by the traveller's heels. 

Is it not dull that makes this lofty wall 
Groan with its hundred fhelves and cases ; 
The rubbifh and the thousand trifles all 
That crowd these dark, moth-peopled places ? 
Here mall my craving heart find reft ? 
Muft I perchance a thousand books turn over, 
To find that men are everywhere diftreft, 
And here and there one happy one discover ? 
Why grin' ft thou down upon me, hollow fkull ? 
But that thy brain, like mine, once trembling, hop- 
ing, 

Sought the light day, yet ever sorrowful, 
Burned for the truth in vain, in twilight groping ? 
Ye, inftruments, of course, are mocking me ; 
Its wheels, cogs, bands, and barrels each one praises. 
I waited at the door ; you were the key ; 
Your ward is nicely turned, and yet no bolt it raises. 
Unlifted in the broadeft day, 
Doth Nature's veil from prying eyes defend her, 
And what fhe chooses not before thee to display, 
Not all thy screws and levers can force her to sur- 
render. 

Old trumpery ! not that I e'er used thee, but 
Because my father used thee, hang'ft thou o'er me, 
Old scroll ! thou haft been ftained with smoke and 
smut 



42 



FAUST. 



Since, on this defk, the lamp firft dimly gleamed 
before me. 

Better have squandered, far, I now can clearly see, 
My little all, than melt beneath it, in this Tophet ! 
That which thy fathers have bequeathed to thee, 
Earn and become possessor of it ! 
What profits not a weary load will be ; 
What it brings forth alone can yield the moment 
profit. 

Why do I gaze as if a spell had bound me 
Up yonder ? Is that flafk a magnet to the eyes ? 
What lovely light, so sudden, blooms around me ? 
As when in nightly woods we hail the full-moon-rise. 

I greet thee, rareft phial, precious potion ! 
As now I take thee down with deep devotion, 
In thee I venerate man's wit and art. 
Quintessence of all soporific flowers, 
Extract of all the finefl: deadly powers, 
Thy favor to thy mailer now impart! 
I look on thee, the sight my pain appeases, 
I handle thee, the ftrife of longing ceases, 
The flood-tide of the spirit ebbs away. 
Far out to sea I'm drawn, sweet voices liftening, 
The glassy waters at my feet are gliftening, 
To new mores beckons me a new-born day. 

A fiery chariot floats, on airy pinions, 
To where I sit! Willing, it beareth me, 
On a new path, through ether's blue dominions, 
To untried spheres of pure activity. 



FAUST. 



43 



This lofty life, this bliss elysian, 
Worm that thou waft erewhile, deserveft thou ? 
Ay, on this earthly sun, this charming vision, 
Turn thy back resolutely now ! 
Boldly draw near and rend the gates asunder, 
By which each cowering mortal gladly fteals. 
Now is the time to fhow by deeds of wonder 
That manly greatness not to godlike glory yields ; 
Before that gloomy pit to ft and, unfearing, 
Where Fantasy self-damned in its own torment lies, 
Still onward to that pass-way fleering, 
Around whose narrow mouth hell-flames forever rise ; 
Calmly to dare the ftep, serene, unfhrinking, 
Though into nothingness the hour ftiould see thee 
sinking. 

Now, then, come down from thy old case, I bid 
thee, 

Where thou, forgotten, many a year haft hid thee, 
Into thy mafter's hand, pure, cryftal glass ! 
The joy-feafts of the fathers thou haft brightened, 
The hearts of graveft guefts were lightened, 
When, pledged, from hand to hand they saw thee 
pass. 

Thy sides, with many a curious type bedight, 
Which each, as with one draught he quaffed the 
liquor 

Muft read in rhyme from off the wondrous beaker, 
Remind me, ah ! of many a youthful night. 



44 



FAUST. 



I mall not hand thee now to any neighbor, 

Not now to mow my wit upon thy carvings labor ; 

Here is a juice of quick-intoxicating might. 

The rich brown flood adown thy sides is ftreaming, 

With my own choice ingredients teeming; 

Be this laft draught, as morning now is gleaming, 

Drained as a lofty pledge to greet the feftal light ! 

[He puts the goblet to his lips. 

Ringing of bells and choral song. 

Chorus of Angels. Chrift hath arisen ! 
Joy to humanity ! 
No more fhall vanity, 
Death and inanity 
Hold thee in prison! 
Fauft. What hum of music, what a radiant tone, 
Thrills through me, from my lips the goblet ftealing ! 
Ye murmuring bells, already make ye known 
The Eafter morn's firft hour, with solemn pealing ? 
Sing you, ye choirs, e'en now, the glad, consoling 
song, 

That once, from angel-lips, through gloom sepul- 
chral rung, 
A new immortal covenant sealing ? 
Chorus of Women. Spices we carried, 
Laid them upon his breaft ; 
Tenderly buried 
Him whom we loved the beft ; 



FAUST. 



Cleanly to bind him 
Took we the fondeft care, 
Ah ! and we find him 
Now no more there. 
Chorus of Angels. Chrift hath ascended! 
Reign in benignity ! 
Pain and indignity, 
Scorn and malignity,- 
Their work have ended. 
Fauji. Why seek ye me in dust, forlorn, 
Ye heavenly tones, with soft enchanting ? 
Go, greet pure-hearted men this holy morn ! 
Your message well I hear, but faith to me is 
ing; 

Wonder, its dearest child, of Faith is born. 
To yonder spheres I dare no more aspire, 
Whence the sweet tidings downward float ; 
And yet, from childhood heard, the old, familiar 
Calls back e'en now to life my warm desire. 
Ah ! once how sweetly fell on me the kiss 
Of heavenly love in the still Sabbath stealing ! 
Prophetically rang the bells with solemn pealing 
A prayer was then the ecstasy of bliss ; 
A blessed and mysterious yearning 
Drew me to roam through meadows, woods, 
fkies ; 

And, midst a thousand tear-drops burning, 
I felt a world within me rise. 



4 6 



FAUST. 



That strain, oh, how it speaks youth's gleesome 

plays and feelings, 
Joys of spring-festivals long past ; 
Remembrance holds me now, with childhood's fond 

appealings, 
Back from the fatal step, the last. 
Sound on, ye heavenly strains, that bliss restore me ! 
Tears gush, once more the spell of earth is o'er me ! 
Chorus of Disciples. Has the grave's lowly one 

Risen victorious ? 

Sits he, God's Holy One, 

High-throned and glorious ? 

He, in this blest new birth, 

Rapture creative knows ; 9 

Ah ! on the breast of earth 

Taste we still nature's woes. 

Left here to languish 

Lone in a world like this, 

Fills us with anguifh 

Master, thy bliss ! 
Chorus of Angels. Christ has arisen 

Out of corruption's gloom. 

Break from your prison, 

Burst every tomb ! 

Livingly owning him, 

Lovingly throning him, 

Feasting fraternally, 

Praying diurnally, 



FAUST. 



Bearing his messages. 
Sharing his promises, 
Find ye your master near, 
Find ye him here ! 10 



48 



FAUST. 



BEFORE THE GATE. 
I 

Pedestrians of all descriptions stroll forth. 

Mechanics' Apprentices. Where are you going to 
carouse ? 

Others. We're all going out to the Hunter's 
House. 

The Firji. We're going, ourselves, out to the 

Mill-House, brothers. 
An Apprentice. The Fountain-House I rather 

recommend. 
Second. 'Tis not a pleasant road, my friend. 
The second group. What will you do, then ? 
A Third. I go with the others. 
Fourth. Come up to Burgdorf, there you're sure 
to find good cheer, 
The handsomest of girls and best of beer, 
And rows, too, of the very first water. 

Fifth. You monstrous madcap, does your fkin 
Itch for the third time to try that inn ? 
I've had enough for my taste in that quarter. 

Servant-girl. No ! I'm going back again to town 
for one. 

Others. Under those poplars we are sure to meet 
him. 

Firji Girl. But that for me is no great fun ; 
For you are always sure to get him, 



FAUST. 



49 



He never dances with any but you. 
Great good to me your luck will do ! 

Others. He's not alone, I heard him say, 
The curly-head would be with him to-day. 

Scholar. Stars ! how the buxom wenches stride 
there ! 

Quick, brother ! we must fasten alongside there. 
Strong beer, good smart tobacco, and the waist 
Of a right handsome gall, well rigg'd, now that's my 
taste. 

Citizen's Daughter. Do see those fine, young fel- 
lows yonder! 
'Tis, I declare, a great disgrace ; 
When they might have the very best, I wonder, 
After these galls they needs must race ! 

Second scholar [to the firji\. Stop! not so fast! 
there come two more behind, 
My eyes ! but ain't they dressed up neatly ? 
One is my neighbor, or I'm blind ; 
I love the girl, fhe looks so sweetly. 
Alone all quietly they go, 

You'll find they'll take us, by and bye, in tow. 

Firft. No, brother I I don't like these starched 
up ways. 

Make haste ! before the game slips through our fin- 
gers. 

The hand that swings the broom o' Saturdays 
On Sundays round thy neck most sweetly lingers. 
4 



50 



FAUST. 



Citizen. No, I don't like at all this new-made 
burgomaster ! 
His insolence grows daily ever faster. 
No good from him the town will get! 
Will things grow better with him ? Never ! 
We're under more constraint than ever, 
And pay more tax than ever yet. 

Beggar. [Sings.] Good gentlemen, and you, fair 
ladies, 

With such red cheeks and handsome dress, 

Think what my melancholy trade is, 

And see and pity my distress ! 

Help the poor harper, sisters, brothers ! 

Who loves to give, alone is gay. 

This day, a holiday to others, 

Make it for me a harvest day. 
Another citizen. Sundays and holidays, I like, of 
all things, a good prattle 
Of war and fighting, and the whole array, 
When back in Turkey, far away, 
The peoples give each other battle. 
One stands before the window, drinks his glass, 
And sees the mips with flags glide slowly down the 
river ; 

Comes home at night, when out of sight they pass, 
And sings with joy, " Oh, peace forever ! " 

Third citizen. So I say, neighbor ! let them have 
their way, 



FAUST. 



5* 



Crack fkulls and in their crazy riot 
Turn all things upside down they may, 
But leave us here in peace and quiet. 

Old Woman [to the citizen's daughter]. Heyday, 
brave prinking this ! the fine young blood ! 
Who is not smitten that has met you ? — ■ 
But not so proud ! All very good ! 
And what you want I'll promise soon to get you. 

Citizen's Daughter. Come, Agatha! I dread in 
public sight 

To prattle with such hags ; don't stay, O, Luddy ! 
'Tis true me mowed me, on St. Andrew's night, 
My future sweetheart in the body. 

The other. She mowed me mine, too, in a glass, 
Right soldierlike, with daring comrades round him. 
I look all round, I study all that pass, 
But to this hour I have not found him. 
Soldiers. Castles with lowering 

Bulwarks and towers, 

Maidens with towering 

Passions and powers, 

Both mall be ours ! 

Daring the venture, 

Glorious the pay! 

When the brass trumpet 

Summons us loudly, 

Joy-ward or death-ward, 

On we march proudly. 

That is a storming! 



52 



FAUST. 



Life in its splendor ! 

Castles and maidens 

Both must surrender. 

Daring the venture, 

Glorious the pay. 

There go the soldiers 

Marching away! 
Faust and Wagner. 
Fauft. Spring's warm look has unfettered the 
fountains, 
Brooks go tinkling with silvery feet ; 
Hope's bright blossoms the valley greet ; 
Weakly and sickly up the rough mountains 
Pale old Winter has made his retreat. 
Thence he launches, in fheer despite, 
Sleet and hail in impotent mowers, 
O'er the green lawn as he takes his flight ; 
But the sun will suffer no white, 
Everywhere waking the formative powers, 
Living colors he yearns to spread \ 
Yet, as he finds it too early for flowers, 
Gayly dressed people he takes instead. 
Look from this height whereon we find us 
Back to the town we have left behind us, 
Where from the dark and narrow door 
Forth a motley multitude pour. 
They sun themselves gladly and all are gay, 
They celebrate Christ's resurrection to-day. 



FAUST. 



53 



For have not they themselves arisen ? 
From smoky huts and hovels and stables, 
From labor's bonds and traffic's prison, 
From the confinement of roofs and gables, 
From many a cramping street and alley, 
From churches full of the old world's night, 
All have come out to the day's broad light. 
See, only see ! how the masses sally 
Streaming and swarming through gardens and fields, 
How the broad stream that bathes the valley 
Is everywhere cut with pleasure boats' keels, 
And that last ikifF, so heavily laden, 
Almost to sinking, puts off in the stream ; 
Ribbons and jewels of youngster and maiden 
From the far paths of the mountain gleam. 
How it hums o'er the fields and clangs from the 
steeple ! 

This is the real heaven of the people, 
Both great and little are merry and gay, 
I am a man, too, I can be, to-day. 

W igner. With you, Sir Doctor, to go out walk- 
ing 

Is at all times honor and gain enough ; 

But to trust myself here alone would be mocking, 

For I am a foe to all that is rough. 

Fiddling and bowling and screams and laughter 

To me are the hatefullest noises on earth ; 

They yell as if Satan himself were after, 

And call it music and call it mirth. 



54 



FAUST. 



[Peasants (under the linden ). Dance and song.] 
The fhepherd prinked him for the dance, 
With jacket gay and spangle's glance, 
And all his finest quiddle. 
And round the linden lass and lad 
They wheeled and whirled and danced like mad. 
Huzza! huzza! 
Huzza! Ha, ha, ha! 
And tweedle-dee went the fiddle. 

And in he bounded through the whirl, 
And with his elbow punched a girl, 
Heigh diddle, diddle ! 

The buxom wench me turned round quick, 
" Now that I call a scurvy trick ! " 
Huzza! huzza! 
Huzza! ha, ha, ha! 

Tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee went the fiddle. 

And petticoats and coat-tails flew 

As up and down they went, and through, 

Across and down the middle. 

They all grew red, they all grew warm, 

And rested, panting, arm in arm, 

Huzza! huzza! 

Ta-ra-la ! 

Tweedle-dee went the fiddle ! 



FAUST. 



55 



"And don't be so familiar there ! 
How many a one, with speeches fair, 
His trusting maid will , diddle ! " 
But still he nattered her aside — 
And from the linden sounded wide : 
Huzza! huzza! 
Huzza ! huzza ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
And tweedle-dee the fiddle. 

Old Peasant. Sir Doctor, this is kind of you, 
That with us here you deign to talk, 
And through the crowd of folk to-day 
A man so highly larned, walk. 
So take the fairest pitcher here, 
Which we with frefhest drink have filled, 
I pledge it to you, praying aloud 
That, while your thirst thereby is stilled, 
So many days as the drops it contains 
May fill out the life that to you remains. 

Fauft. I take the quickening draught and call 
For heaven's best blessing on one and all. 

[The -people form a circle round him.~] 

Old Peasant. Your presence with us, this glad 
day, 

We take it very kind, indeed! 

In truth we've found you long ere this 

In evil days a friend in need ! 

Full many a one stands living here, 

Whom, at death's door already laid, 



56 



FAUST. 



Your father snatched from fever's rage, 
When, by his fkill, the plague he stayed. 
You, a young man, we daily saw 
Go with him to the pest-house then, 
And many a corpse was carried forth, 
But you came out alive again. 
With a charmed life you passed before us, 
Helped by the Helper watching o'er us. 

All. The well-tried man, and may he live, 
Long years a helping hand to give ! 

Fauft. Bow down to Him on high who sends 
His heavenly help and helping friends ! 

[He goes on nuith Wagner. 

Wagner. What feelings, O great man, thy heart 
must swell 
Thus to receive a people's veneration ! 
O worthy all congratulation, 
Whose gifts to such advantage tell. 
The father to his son mows thee with exultation, 
All run and crowd and afk, the circle closer draws, 
The fiddle stops, the dancers pause, 
Thou goest — the lines fall back for thee. 
They fling their gay-decked caps on high ; 
A little more and they would bow the knee 
As if the blessed Host came by. 

Fauft. A few steps further on, until we reach 
that stone ; 
There will we rest us from our wandering. 



FAUST. 



57 



How oft in prayer and penance there alone, 
Fasting, I sate, on holy mysteries pondering. 
There, rich in hope, in faith still firm, 
I've wept, sighed, wrung my hands and striven 
This plague's removal to extort (poor worm !) 
From the almighty Lord of Heaven. 
The crowd's applause has now a scornful tone \ 
O couldst thou hear my conscience tell its story, 
How little either sire or son 
Has done to merit such a glory ! 
My father was a worthy man, confused 
And darkened with his narrow lucubrations, 
Who with a whimsical, though well-meant pa- 
tience, 

On Nature's holy circles mused. 
Shut up in his black laboratory, 
Experimenting without end, 
'Midst his adepts, till he grew hoary, 
He sought the opposing powers to blend. 
Thus, a red lion, 11 a bold suitor, married 
The silver lily, in the lukewarm bath, 
And, from one bride-bed to another harried, 
The two were seen to fly before the flaming wrath. 
If then, with colors gay and splendid, 
The glass the youthful queen revealed, 
Here was the physic, death the patients' sufferings 
ended, 

And no one alked, who then was healed ? 



5« 



FAUST. 



Thus, with electuaries so satanic, 
Worse than the plague with all its panic, 
We rioted through hill and vale - } 
Myself, with my own hands, the drug to thousands 
giving, 

They passed away, and I am living 

To hear men's thanks the murderers hail ! 

Wagner. Forbear! far other name that service 
merits ! 

Can a brave man do more or less 

Than with nice conscientiousness 

To exercise the calling he inherits ? 

If thou, as youth, thy father honorest, 

To learn from him thou wilt desire ; 

If thou, as man, men with new light hast blest, 

Then may thy son to loftier heights aspire. 

Fauft. O blest ! who hopes to find repose, 
Up from this mighty sea of error diving ! 
Man cannot use what he already knows, 
To use the unknown ever striving. 
But let not such dark thoughts a shadow throw 
O'er the bright joy this hour inspires ! 
See how the setting sun, with ruddy glow, 
The green-embosomed hamlet fires ! 
He sinks and fades, the day is lived and gone, 
He hastens forth new scenes of life to waken. 
O for a wing to lift and bear me on, 
And on, to where his last rays beckon ! 



FAUST. 



59 



Then fhould I see the world's calm breast 
In everlasting sunset glowing, 

The summits all on fire, each valley steeped in rest, 
The silver brook to golden rivers flowing. 
No savage mountain climbing to the fides 
Should stay the godlike course with wild abysses ; 
And now the sea, with fheltering, warm recesses 
Spreads out before the astoniflied eyes. 
At last it seems as if the God were sinking ; 
But a new impulse fires the mind, 
Onward I speed, his endless glory drinking, 
The day before me and the night behind, 
The heavens above my head and under me the ocean. 
A lovely dream, — meanwhile he's gone from sight. 
Ah ! sure, no earthly wing, in swiftest flight, 
May with the spirit's wings hold equal motion. 
Yet has each soul an inborn feeling 
Impelling it to mount and soar away, 
When, lost in heaven's blue depths, the lark is peal- 
ing 

High overhead her airy lay ; 
When o'er the mountain pine's black fhadow, 
With outspread wing the eagle sweeps, 
And, steering on o'er lake and meadow, 
The crane his homeward journey keeps. 

Wagner. I've had myself full many a wayward 
hour, 

But never yet felt such a passion's power. 



6o 



FAUST. 



One soon grows tired of field and wood and brook, 

I envy not the fowl of heaven his pinions. 

Far nobler joy to soar through thought's dominions 

From page to page, from book to book ! 

Ah ! winter nights, so dear to mind and soul ! 

Warm, blissful life through all the limbs is thrilling, 

And when thy hands unfold a genuine ancient scroll, 

It seems as if all heaven the room were filling. 

Fauft. One passion only has thy heart possessed 
The other, friend, O, learn it never ! 
Two souls, alas ! are lodged in my wild breast, 
Which evermore opposing ways endeavor, 
The one lives only on the joys of time, 
Still to the world with clamp-like organs clinging ; 
The other leaves this earthly dust and flime, 
To fields of sainted sires up-springing. 
O, are there spirits in the air, 

That empire hold 'twixt earth's and heaven's domin- 
nions, 

Down from your realm of golden haze repair, 

Waft me to new, rich life, upon your rosy pinions ! 

Ay ! were a magic mantle only mine, 

To soar o'er earth's wide wildernesses, 

I would not sell it for the costliest dresses, 

Not for a royal robe the gift resign. 

Wagner. O, call them not, the well known 
powers of air, 

That swarm through all the middle kingdom, weav- 
ing 



FAUST. 



6l 



Their fairy webs, with many a fatal snare 

The feeble race of men deceiving. 

First, the fharp spirit-tooth, from out the North, 

And arrowy tongues and fangs come thickly flying ; 

Then from the East they greedily dart forth, 

Sucking thy lungs, thy life-juice drying ; 

If from the South they come with fever thirst, 

Upon thy head noon's fiery splendors heaping; 

The Westwind brings a swarm, refrefhing first, 

Then all thy world with thee in stupor steeping. 

They listen gladly, aye on mischief bent, 

Gladly draw near, each weak point to espy, 

They make believe that they from heaven are sent, 

Whispering like angels, while they lie. 

But let us go ! The earth looks gray, my friend, 

The air grows cool, the mists ascend ! 

At night we learn our homes to prize. — 

Why dost thou stop and stare with all thy eyes ? 

What can so chain thy sight there, in the gloaming ? 

Fauft. Seest thou that black dog through stalks 
and stubble roaming ? 

Wagner. I saw him some time since, he seemed 
not strange to me. 

Fauft. Look fharply ! What dost take the beast 
to be ? 

W agner. For some poor poodle who has lost his 
master, 

And, dog-like, scents him o'er the ground. 



62 



FAUST. 



Fauft. Markst thou how, ever nearer, ever faster, 
Towards us his spiral track wheels round and round ? 
And if my senses suffer no confusion, 
Behind him trails a fiery glare. 

Wagner. 'Tis probably an optical illusion ; 
I still see only a black poodle there. 

Fauft. He seems to me as he were tracing flyly 
His magic rings our feet at last to snare. 

Wagner. To me he seems to dart around our 
steps so fliyly, 
As if he said : is one of them my master there ? 

Fauft. The circle narrows, he is near ! 

Wagner. Thou seest ! a dog we have, no spectre, 
here ! 

He growls and stops, crawls on his belly, too, 
And wags his tail, — as all dogs do. 

Fauft. Come here, sir ! come, our comrade be ! 

Wagner. He has a poodle's drollery. 
Stand still, and he, too, waits to see ; 
Speak to him, and he jumps on thee \ 
Lose something, drop thy cane or fling it 
Into the stream, he'll run and bring it. 

Fauft. I think you're right ; I trace no spirit here, 
'Tis all the fruit of training, that is clear. 

Wagner. >■ A well-trained dog is a great treasure, 
Wise men in such will oft take pleasure. 
And he deserves your favor and a collar, 
He, of the ftudents the accomplifhed scholar. 

[They go in through the toivn gate.] 



FAUST. 



63 



STUDY-CHAMBER. 

Enter Faust uoith the Poodle. 

I leave behind me field and meadow 
Veiled in the dufk of holy night, 
Whose ominous and awful fhadow 
Awakes the better soul to light. 
To fleep are lulled the wild desires, 
The hand of passion lies at reft ; 
The love of man the bosom fires, 
The love of God ftirs up the bread. 

Be quiet, poodle ! what worrisome fiend hath pos- 
seft thee, 

Nosing and snuffling so round the door ? 

Go behind the ftove there and reft thee, 

There's my beft pillow — what wouldft thou more ? 

As, out on the mountain-paths, frifking and leaping, 

Thou, to amuse us, haft done thy beft, 

So now in return lie ftill in my keeping, 

A quiet, contented, and welcome gueft. 

When, in our narrow chamber, nightly, 
The friendly lamp begins to burn, 
Then in the bosom thought beams brightly, 
Homeward the heart will then return. 



64 



FAUST. 



Reason once more bids passion ponder, 
Hope blooms again and smiles on man ; 
Back to life's rills he yearns to wander, 
Ah ! to the source where life began. 

Stop growling, poodle ! In the music Elysian 

That laps my soul at this holy hour, 

These beftial noises have jarring power. 

We know that men will treat with derision 

Whatever they cannot underftand, 

At goodness and truth and beauty's vision 

Will fhut their eyes and murmur and howl at it ; 

And muft the dog, too, snarl and growl at it ? 

But ah, with the beft will, I feel already, 
No peace will well up in me, clear and fteady. 
But why muft hope so soon deceive us, 
And the dried-up ftream in fever leave us ? 
For in this I have had a full probation. 
And yet for this want a supply is provided, 
To a higher than earth the soul is guided, 
We are ready and yearn for revelation : 
And where are its light and warmth so blent 
As here in the New Teftament ? 
I feel, this moment, a mighty yearning 
To expound for once the ground text of all, 
The venerable original 

Into my own loved German honeftly turning. 

[He opens the volume, and applies himself to the task.~] 



FAUST. 



"In the beginning was the Word." I read. 

But here I ftick ! Who helps me to proceed ? 

The Word — so high I cannot— dare not, rate it, 

I muft, then, otherwise translate it, 

If by the spirit I am rightly taught. 

It reads : "In the beginning was the thought." 

But ftudy well this first line's lesson, 

Nor let thy pen to error overhaften ! 

Is it the thought does all from time's firft hour ? 

" In the beginning," read then, "was the power.''' 

Yet even while I write it down, my finger 

Is checked, a voice forbids me there to linger. 

The spirit helps ! At once I dare to read 

And write : " In the beginning was the deed." 

If I with thee mult mare my chamber, 
Poodle, now, remember, 
No more howling, 
No more growling ! 
1 had as lief a bull mould bellow, 
As have for a chum such a noisy fellow. 
Stop that yell, now, 
One of us muft quit this cell now ! 
'Tis hard to retract hospitality, 
But the door is open, thy way is free. 
But what ails the creature ? 
Is this in the course of nature? 
Is it real ? or one of Fancy's mows ? 
5 



66 



FAUST. 



How long and broad my poodle grows ! 

He rises from the ground ; 

That is no longer the form of a hound ! 

Heaven avert the curse from us ! 

He looks like a hippopotamus, 

With his fiery eyes and the terrible white 

Of his grinning teeth ! oh what a fright 

Have I brought with me into the house ! Ah now, 

No myflery art thou ! 

Methinks for such half hellifh brood 

The key of Solomon were good. 

Spirits [in the passage]. Softly! a fellow is caught 
there ! 

Keep back, all of you, follow him not there ! 

Like the fox in the trap, 

Mourns the old hell-lynx his mishap. 

But give ye good heed ! 

This way hover, that way hover, 

Over and oyer, 

And he mall right soon be freed. 

Help can you give him, 

O do not leave him ! 

Many good turns he's done us, 

Many a fortune won us. 

Fauft. First, to encounter the creature 
By the spell of the Four, says the teacher : 



FAUST. 



Salamander mail gliften, 12 
Undina lapse lightly, 
Sylph vanifh brightly, 
Kobold quick liften. 

He to whom Nature 
Shows not, as teacher, 
Every force 
And secret source, 
Over the spirits 
No power inherits. 

Vanifh in glowing 

Flame, Salamander! 

Inward, spirally flowing, 

Gurgle, Undine! 

Gleam in meteoric splendor, 

Airy Queen! 

Thy homely help render, 

Incubus ! Incubus ! 

Forth and end the charm for us ! 

No kingdom of Nature 

Resides in the creature. 

He lies there grinning — 'tis clear, my charm 

Has done the monfter no mite of harm. 

I'll try, for thy curing, 

Stronger adjuring. 



68 



FAUST. 



Art thou a jail-bird, 

A runaway hell-bird ? 

This sign, 13 then — adore it ! 

They tremble before it 

All through the dark dwelling. 

His hair is briftling — his body swelling. 

Reprobate creature ! 
Canft read his nature ? 
The Uncreated, 
Ineffably Holy, 
With Deity mated, 
Sin's victim lowly ? 

Driven behind the ftove by my spells, 

Like an elephant he swells ; 

He fills the whole room, so huge he's grown, 

He waxes fhadowy fafter and fafter. 

Rise not up to the ceiling — down ! 

Lay thyself at the feet of thy mailer ! 

Thou seeft, there's reason to dread my ire. 

I'll scorch thee with the holy fire ! 

Wait not for the sight 

Of the thrice-glowing light ! 

Wait not to feel the might 

Of the potenteft spell in all my treasure ! 



FAUST. 



6 9 



Mephistopheles. 

[As the mist sinks, steps forth from behind the stove, dressed as 
a travelling scholasticus.~] 

Why all this noise ? What is your worfhip's pleas- 
ure ? 

Fauft. This was the poodle's essence then ! 
A travelling clark ? Ha ! ha ! The casus is too 
funny. 

Mephijiopheles. I bow to the mo ft learned among 
men ! 

'Faith you did sweat me without ceremony. 

Fauft. What is thy name ? 

Mephlftopheles. The queftion seems too small 
For one who holds the word so very cheaply, 
Who, far removed from fhadows all, 
For subftances alone seeks deeply. 

Fauft. With gentlemen like him in my presence, 
The name is apt to express the essence, 
Especially if, when you inquire, 

You find it God of flies, 14 Deftroyer, Slanderer, Liar. 
Well now, who art thou then ? 

Mephijiopheles. A portion of that power, 
Which wills the bad and works the good at every 
hour. 

Fauft. Beneath thy riddle-word what meaning 
lies ? 

Mephijiopheles. I am the spirit that denies ! 
And juftly so ; for all that time creates, 



70 FAUST. 

He does well who annihilates ! 
Better, it ne'er had had beginning ; 
And so, then, all that you call sinning, 
Deftruction, — all you pronounce ill-meant, — 
Is my original element. 

Fauft. Thou call'ft thyself a part, yet look'ft 

complete to me. 
Mephiftopheks. I speak the modeft truth to thee. 
A world of folly in one little soul, 
Man loves to think himself a whole ; 
Part of the part am I, which once was all, the Gloom 
That brought forth Light itself from out her mighty 

womb, 

The upfTart proud, that now with mother Night 

Disputes her ancient rank and space and right, 

Yet never mail prevail, since, do whate'er he will, 

He cleaves, a slave, to bodies ftill ; 

From bodies flows, makes bodies fair to sight \ 

A body in his course can check him, 

His doom, I therefore hope, will soon o'ertake him, 

With bodies merged in nothingness and night. 

Fauft. Ah, now I see thy high vocation ! 
In gross thou canft not harm creation, 
And so in small haft now begun. 

Mephiftopheks. And, truth to tell, e'en here, not 
much have done. 
That which at nothing the gauntlet has hurled, 
This, what's its name ? this clumsy world, 



FAUST. 



71 



So far as I have undertaken, 
I have to own, remains unfhaken 
By wave, ftorm, earthquake, fiery brand. 
Calm, after all, remain both sea and land. 
And the damn'd living ftufF, of man and beaft the 
brood, 

It laughs to scorn my utmoft power. 
I've buried myriads by the hour, 
And ftill there circulates each hour a new, frefti 
blood. 

It were enough to drive one to diffraction ! 

Earth, water, air, in conftant action, 

Through moift and dry, through warm and cold, 

Going forth in endless germination ! 

Had I not claimed of fire a reservation, 

Not one thing I alone mould hold. 

Fauft. Thus, with the ever-working power 
Of good doft thou in ftrife persift, 
And in vain malice, to this hour, 
Clencheft thy cold and devilifh fift ! 
Go try some other occupation, 
Singular son of Chaos, thou ! 

Mephiftopheles. We'll give the thing consideration, 
When next we meet again ! But now 
Might I for once, with leave retire ? 

Fauft. Why thou fhouldft afk I do not see. 
Now that I know thee, when desire 
Shall prompt thee, freely visit me. 



72 



FAUST. 



Window and door give free admission, 
At leaft there's left the chimney flue. 

Mephiftopheles. Let me confess there's one small 
prohibition 

Lies on thy threfhold, 'gainft my walking through, 
The wizard-foot — 15 

Fauft. Does that delay thee ? 

The Pentagram difturbs thee ? Now, 
Come tell me, son of hell, I pray thee, 
If that spell-binds thee, then how enteredft thou ? 
Thou mouldft proceed more circumspectly ! 

Mephiftopheles. Mark well ! the figure is not 
drawn correctly ; 
One of the angles, 'tis the outer one, 
Is somewhat open, doft perceive it ? 

Fauft. That was a lucky hit, believe it ! 
And I have caught thee then ? Well done ! 
'Twas wholly chance — I'm quite aftounded ! 

Mephiftopheles. The poodle took no heed, as 
through the door he bounded ; 
The case looks differently now ; 
The devil can leave the house no-how. 

Fauft. The window offers free emission. 

Mephiftopheles. Devils and ghofts are bound by 
this condition : 
The way they entered in, they muft come out. Allow 
In the firft clause we're free, yet not so in the 
second. 



FAUST. 



73 



Fauft. In hell itself, then, laws are reckoned ? 
Now that I like ; so then, one may, in fact, 
Conclude a binding compact with you gentry ? 

Mephiftopheles. Whatever promise on our books 
finds entry, 
We ftridtly carry into a£fc. 
But hereby hangs a grave condition, 
Of this we'll talk when next we meet j 
But for the present I entreat 
Moft urgently your kind dismission. 

Fauft. Do ftay but juft one moment longer, then, 
Tell me good news and I'll release thee. 

Mephiftopheles. Let me go now ! I'll soon come 
back again, 

Then may'ft thou afk whate'er mall please thee. 

Fauft. I laid no snare for thee, old chap ! 
Thou fhouldft have watched and saved thy bacon. 
Who has the devil in his trap 

Muft hold him faft, next time he'll not so soon be 
taken. 

Mephiftopheles. Well, if it please thee, I'm con- 
tent to ftay 
For company, on one condition, 
That I, for thy amusement, may 
To exercise my arts have free permission. 

Fauft. I gladly grant it, if they be 
Not disagreeable to me. 

Mephiftopheles. Thy senses, friend, in this one 
hour 



74 FAUST. 

Shall grasp the world with clearer power 
Than in a year's monotony. 
The songs the tender spirits sing thee, 
The lovely images they bring thee 
Are not an idle magic play. 
Thou malt enjoy the daintieft savor, 
Then feaft thy tafte on richeft flavor, 
Then thy charmed heart mall melt awa). 
Come, all are here, and all have been 
Well trained and practised, now begin ! 
Spirits. Vanifh, ye gloomy 

Vaulted abysses ! 

Tenderer, clearer, 

Friendlier, nearer, 

Ether, look through ! 

O that the darkling 

Cloud-piles were riven ! 

Starlight is sparkling, 

Purer is heaven, 

Holier sunfhine 

Softens the blue. 

Graces, adorning 

Sons of the morning — 

Shadowy wavings — 

Float along over j 

Yearnings and cravings 

After them hover. 

Garments ethereal, 



FAUST. 



Tresses aerial, 
Float o'er the flowers, 
Float o'er the bowers, 
Where, with deep feeling, 
Thoughtful and tender, 
Lovers, embracing, 
Life-vows are sealing. 
Bowers on bowers ! 
Graceful and flender 
Vines interlacing! 
Purple and blufhing, 
Under the crufhing 
Wine-presses gufhing, 
Grape-blood, o'erflowing, 
Down over gleaming 
Precious ftones ftreaming, 
Leaves the bright glowing 
Tops of the mountains, 
Leaves the red fountains, 
Widening and ruining, 
Till it encloses 
Green hills all flufhing, 
Laden with roses. 
Happy ones, swarming, 
Ply their swift pinions, 
Glide through the charming 
Airy dominions, 
Sunward ftill fleering, 



/6 FAUST. 

Onward, where peering 

Far o'er the ocean, 

Islets are dancing 

With an entrancing, 

Magical motion ; 

Hear them, in chorus, 

Singing high o'er us ; 

Over the meadows 

Flit the bright fhadows ; 

Glad eyes are glancing, 

Tiny feet dancing. 

Up the high ridges 

Some of them clamber, 

Others are fkimming 

Sky-lakes of amber, 

Others are swimming 

Over the ocean ; — 

All are in motion, 

Life-ward all yearning, 

Longingly turning 

To the far-burning 

Star-light of bliss. 
Mephijiopbeles. He fleeps ! Ye airy, tender youths, 
your numbers 
Have sung him into sweeteft /lumbers ! 
You put me greatly in your debt by this. 
Thou art not yet the man that mail hold faft the 
devil ! 



FAUST. 



77 



Still cheat his senses with your magic revel, 
Drown him in dreams of endless youth ; 
But this charm-mountain on the sill to level, 
I need, O rat, thy pointed tooth ! 
Nor need I conjure long, they're near me, 
E'en now comes scampering one, who presently will 
hear me. 

The sovereign lord of rats and mice, 
Of flies and frogs and bags and lice, 
Commands thee to come forth this hour, 
And gnaw this threfhold with great power, 
As he with oil the same mall smear — 
Ha ! with a fkip e'en now thou'rt here ! 
But brifk to work ! The point by which I'm cow- 
ered, 

Is on the ledge, the fartheft forward. 
Yet one more bite, the deed is done. — 
Now, Fauft, until we meet again, dream on ! 

Fauft. [Waking.] Again has witchcraft triumphed 
o'er me ? 

Was it a ghoftly fhow, so soon withdrawn ? 
I dream, the devil ftands himself before me — 
I wake, to find a poodle gone ! 



78 



FAUST. 



STUDY-CHAMBER. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Fauji. A knock ? Walk in ! Who comes again 

to tease me ? 
Mephiftopheles. 'Tis I. 
Faufl. Come in ! 

Mephiftopheles. Muft say it thrice, to please me. 

Faufl. Come in then ! 

Mephiftopheles. That I like to hear. 
We mail, I hope, bear with each other ; 
For to dispel thy crotchets, brother, 
As a young lord, I now appear, 
In scarlet dress, trimmed with gold lacing, 
A ftifF silk cloak with ftylifh facing, 
A tall cock's feather in my hat, 
A long, fharp rapier" to defend me, 
And I advise thee, fhort and flat, 
In the same coftume to attend me ; 
If thou wouldft, unembarrassed, see 
What sort of thing this life may be. 

Faufl. In every dress I well may feel the sore 
Of this low earth-life's melancholy. 
I am too old to live for folly, 
Too young, to wifh for nothing more. 
Am I content with all creation ? 



FAUST. 



Renounce ! renounce ! Renunciation — 
Such is the everlafting song 
That in the ears of all men rings, 
Which every hour, our whole life long, 
With brazen accents hoarsely sings. 
With terror I behold each morning's light, 
With bitter tears my eyes are filling, 
To see the day that mall not in its flight 
Fulfil for me one wifh, not one, but killing 
Every presentiment of zeft 
With wayward fkepticism, chases 
The fair creations from my breaft 
With all life's thousand cold grimaces. 
And when at night I ftretch me on my bed 
And darkness spreads its fhadow o'er me ; 
No reft comes then anigh my weary head, 
Wild dreams and spectres dance before me. 
The God who dwells within my soul 
Can heave its depths at any hour ; 
Who holds o'er all my faculties control 
Has o'er the outer world no power ; 
Exiftence lies a load upon my breaft, 
Life is a curse and death a long'd-for reft. 

Mepbiftopheles. And yet death never proves 
wholly welcome gueft. 

Fauft. O bleft ! for whom, when victory's joy 
fire blazes, 

Death round his brow the bloody laurel windeth, 



8o 



FAUST. 



Whom, weary with the dance's mazes, 
He on a maiden's bosom findeth. 

that, beneath the exalted spirit's power, 

1 had expired, in rapture sinking ! 
Mephiftopheles. And yet I knew one, in a mid- 
night hour, 

Who a brown liquid fhrank from drinking. 

Fauft. Eaves-dropping seems a favorite game 
with thee. 

Mephiftopheles. Omniscient am I not; yet much 
is known to me. 

Fauft. Since that sweet tone, with fond appealing, 
Drew me from witchcraft's horrid maze, 
And woke the lingering childlike feeling 
With harmonies of happier days ; 
My curse on all the mock-creations 
That weave their spell around the soul, 
And bind it with their incantations 
And orgies to this wretched hole ! 
Accursed be the high opinion 
Hugged by the self-exalting mind ! 
Accursed all the dream-dominion 
That makes the dazzled senses blind ! 
Curs'd be each vision that befools us, 
Of fame, outlafting earthly life ! 
Curs'd all that, as possession, rules us, 
As house and barn, as child and wife ! 
Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure 



* 



FAUST. 



81 



He fires our hearts for deeds of might, 
When, for a dream of idle pleasure, 
He makes our pillow smooth and light! 
Curs'd be the grape-vine's balsam-juices ! 
On love's high grace my curses fall! 
On faith ! On hope that man seduces, 
On patience laft, not leaft, of all ! 

Choir of spirits. [Invisible.] Woe! Woe! 

Thou haft ground it to duft, 

The beautiful world, 

With mighty flft ; 

To ruins 'tis hurled 

A demi-god's blow hath done it ! 

A moment we look upon it, 

Then carry (sad duty !) 

The fragments over into nothingness, 

With tears unavailing 

Bewailing 

All the departed beauty. 
Lordlier 

Than all sons of men, 

Proudlier 

Build it again, 

Build it up in thy breaft anew ! 
A frefh career pursue, 
Before thee 
A clearer view, 
And, from the Empyrean, 
6 

1 



82 



FAUST. 



A new-born Paean 
Shall greet thee, too ! 
Mephiftopheles. Be pleased to admire 
My juvenile choir ! 

Hear how they counsel in manly measure 

Action and pleasure ! 

Out into life, 

Its joy and ftrife, 

Away from this lonely hole, 

Where senses and soul 

Rot in ftagnation, 

Calls thee their high invitation. 

Give over toying with thy sorrow 

Which like a vulture feeds upon thy heart ; 

Thou malt, in the worft company, to-morrow 

Feel that with men a man thou art. 

Yet I do not exactly intend 

Among the canaille to plant thee. 

I'm none of your magnates, I grant thee j 

Yet if thou art willing, my friend, 

Through life to jog on beside me, 

Thy pleasure in all things mall guide me, 

To thee will I bind me, 

A friend thou malt fnd me, 

And, e'en to the grave, 

Shalt make me thy servant, make me thy Have ! 
Fauft. And in return what service mail I render ? 



FAUST. 83 

Mephijiopheles. There's ample grace — no hurry, 

not the leaft. 
Fauji. No, no, the devil is an egotift, 
And does not easily " for God's sake 93 tender 
That which a neighbor may assift. 
Speak plainly the conditions, come ! 
'Tis dangerous taking such a servant home. 

Mephijiopheles. I to thy service here agree to bind 
me, 

To run and never reft at call of thee ; 
When over yonder thou malt find me, 
Then thou malt do as much for me. 

Faufl. I care not much what's over yonder : 
When thou haft knocked this world asunder, 
Come if it will the other may ! 
Up from this earth my pleasures all are ftreaming, 
Down on my woes this earthly sun is beaming ; 
Let me but end this fit of dreaming, 
Then come what will, I've nought to say. 
I'll hear no more of barren wonder 
If in that world they hate and love, 
And whether in that future yonder 
There's a Below and an Above. 

Mephijiopheles. In such a mood thou well mayft 
venture. 

Bind thyself to me, and by this indenture 

Thou fhalt enjoy with relifh keen 

Fruits of my arts that man had never seen. 



8 + 



FAUST. 



Fauft. And what haft thou to give, poor devil ? 
Was e'er a human mind, upon its lofty level, 
Conceived of by the like of thee ? 
Yet haft thou food that brings satiety, 
Not satisfaction ; gold that reftlessly, 
Like quicksilver, melts down within 
The hands ; a game in which men never win ; 
A maid that, hanging on my breaft, 
Ogles a neighbor with her wanton glances ; 
Of fame the glorious godlike zeft, 
That like a fhort-lived meteor dances — 
Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot, 
And trees from which new green is daily peeping ! 

Mephiftopheles. Such a requirement scares me not ; 
Such treasures have I in my keeping. 
Yet fliall there also come a time, good friend, 
When we may feaft on good things at our leisure. 

Fauft. If e'er I lie content upon a lounge of 
pleasure — 
Then let there be of me an end ! 
When thou with flattery canft cajole me, 
Till I self-satisfied mall be, 
When thou with pleasure canft befool me, 
Be that the laft of days for me ! 
I lay the wager ! 

Mephiftopheles. Done ! 

Fauft. And heartily ! 
Whenever to the passing hour 



FAUST. 



85 



I cry : O ftay ! thou art so fair ! 
To chain me down I give thee power 
To the black bottom of despair ! 
Then let my knell no longer linger, 
Then from my service thou art free, 
Fall from the clock the index-finger, 
Be time all over, then, for me ! 

Mephiftopheles. Think well, for we mall hold 
you to the letter. 

Fauft. Full right to that juft now I gave ; 
I spoke not as an idle braggart better. 
Henceforward I remain a flave, 
What care I who puts on the fetter ? 

Mephiftopheles, I mail this very day, at Doctor's- 
feaft, 16 

My bounden service duly pay thee. 

But one thing ! — For insurance' sake, I pray thee, 

Grant me a line or two, at leaft. 

Fauft. Pedant ! will writing gain thy faith, alone ? 
In all thy life, no man, nor man's word haft thou 
known ? 

Is't not enough that I the fatal word 

That passes on my future days have spoken ? 

The world-ftream raves and nifties (haft not heard ?) 

And ftiall a promise hold, unbroken ? 

Yet this delusion haunts the human breaft, 

Who from his soul its roots would sever ? 

Thrice happy in whose heart pure truth finds reft, 



86 



FAUST. 



No sacrifice mall he repent of ever ! 
But from a formal, written, sealed atteft, 
As from a spectre, all men fhrink forever. 
The word and spirit die together, 
Killed by the sight of wax and leather. 
What wilt thou, evil sprite, from me ? 
Brass, marble, parchment, paper, mall it .be ? 
Shall I subscribe with pencil, pen or graver ? 
Among them all thy choice is free. 

Mephiftopheles. This rhetoric of thine to me 
Hath a somewhat bombaftic savor. 
Any small scrap of paper's good. 
Thy signature will need a single drop of blood. 17 

Fauft. If this will satisfy thy mood, 
I will consent thy whim to favor. 

Mephiftopheles. Quite a peculiar juice is blood. 

Fauft. Fear not that I mall break this bond ; O, 
never ! 

My promise, rightly underftood, 
Fulfils my nature's whole endeavor. 
I've puffed myself too high, I see ; 
To thy rank only I belong. 
The Lord of Spirits scorneth me, 
Nature, fliut up, resents the wrong. 
The thread of thought is snapt asunder, 
All science to me is a ftupid blunder. 
Let us in sensuality's deep 
Quench the passions within us blazing ! 



FAUST. 



87 



And, the veil of sorcery raising, 
Wake each miracle from its long fleep ! 
Plunge we into the billowy dance, 
The rufh and roll of time and chance ! 
Then may pleasure and diftress, 
Disappointment and success, 
Follow each other as faft as they will ; 
Man's reftless activity nourifhes ftill. 

Mephiftopheles. No bound or goal is set to you; 
Where'er you like to wander sipping, 
And catch a tit-bit in your fkipping, 
Eschew all coyness, juft fall to, 
And may you find a good digeftion ! 

Fauft. Now, once for all, pleasure is not the 
queftion. 

I'm sworn to passion's whirl, the agony of bliss, 
The lover's hate, the sweets of bitterness. 
My heart, no more by pride of science driven, 
Shall open wide to let each sorrow enter, 
And all the good that to man's race is given, 
I will enjoy it to my being's centre, 
Through life's whole range, upward and downward 
sweeping, 

Their weal and woe upon my bosom heaping, 
Thus in my single self their selves all comprehending 
And with them in a common fhipwreck ending. 
Mephiftopheles. O trufr. me, who since firft I fell 
from heaven, 



88 



FAUST. 



Have chewed this tough meat many a thousand 
year, 

No man digefts the ancient leaven, 
No mortal, from the cradle to the bier. 
Truft one of us — the whole creation 
To God alone belongs by right; 
He has in endless day his habitation, 
Us He hath made for utter night, 
You for alternate dark and light. 

Fauft. But then I will! 

Mephiftopheles. Now that's worth hearing ! 
But one thing haunts me, the old song, 
That time is fhort and art is long. 
You need some flight advice, I'm fearing. 
Take to you one of the poet-feather, 
Let the gentleman's thought, far-sweeping, 
Bring all the nobler! traits together, 
On your one crown their honors heaping, 
The lion's mood 
The flag's rapidity, 
The fiery blood of Italy, 
The Northman's hardihood. 
Bid him teach thee the art of combining 
Greatness of soul with fly designing, 
And how, with warm and youthful passion, 
To fall in love by plan and fafhion. 
Should like, myself, to come across 'm, 
Would name him Mr. Microcosm. 



FAUST. 



89 



Fauft. What am I then ? if that for which my 
heart 

Yearns with invincible endeavor, 
The crown of man, rauft hang unreached forever ? 
Mephiftopheles. Thou art at laft — juft what thou 
art. 

Pile perukes on thy head whose curls cannot be 
counted, 

On yard-high bufkins let thy feet be mounted, 
Still thou art only what thou art. 

Fauft. Yes, I have vainly, let me not deny 
it, 

Of human learning ransacked all the ftores, 
And when, at laft, I set me down in quiet, 
There gufhes up within no new-born force ; 
I am not by a hair's-breadth higher, 
Am to the Infinite no nigher. 

Mephiftopheles. My worthy sir, you see the matter 
As people generally see ; 
But we muft learn to take things better, 
Before life pleasures wholly flee. 
The deuce ! thy head and all that's in it, 

Hands, feet and are thine ; 

What I enjoy with zeft each minute, 

Is surely not the less mine ? 

If I've six horses in my span, 

Is it not mine, their every power ? 

I fly along as an undoubted man, 



9 o 



FAUST. 



On four and twenty legs the road I scour. 

Cheer up, then ! let all thinking be, 

And out into the world with me ! 

I tell thee, friend, a speculating churl 

Is like a beaft, some evil spirit chases 

Along a barren heath in one perpetual whirl, 

While round about lie fair, green pafturing places. 

Fauft. But how mail we begin ? 

Mephiftopheles. We sally forth e'en now. 
What martyrdom endureft thou ! 
What kind of life is this to be living, 
Ennui to thyself and youngfters giving ? 
Let Neighbor Belly that way go ! 
To ftay here threfhing ftraw why car'ft thou ? 
The beft that thou canft think and know 
To tell the boys not for the whole world dar'ft thou. 
E'en now I hear one in the entry. 

Fauft. I have no heart the youth to see. 

Mephiftopheles. The poor boy waits there like a 
sentry, 

He mail not want a word from me. 
Come, give me, now, thy robe and bonnet; 
This mafk will suit me charmingly. 

[He puts them on.'] 
Now for my wit — rely upon it ! 
'Twill take but fifteen minutes, I am sure. 
Meanwhile prepare thyself to make the pleasant tour ! 

[Exit Faust. 



FAUST. 



9 



Mephiftopheles [in Faust's long gown]. Only de 
spise all human wit and lore. 
The higheft flights that thought can soar — 
Let but the lying spirit blind thee, 
And with his spells of witchcraft bind thee, 
Into my snare the victim creeps. — 
To him has deftiny a spirit given, 
That unreftrainedly ftill onward sweeps, 
To scale the fkies long since hath ftriven, 
And all earth's pleasures overleaps. 
He mail through life's wild scenes be driven, 
And through its flat unmeaningness, 
I'll make him writhe and ftare and ftiffen, 
And midft all sensual excess, 

His fevered lips, with thirft all parched and riven, 
Insatiably mall haunt refrefhment's brink ; 
And had he not, himself, his soul to Satan given, 
Still mult he to perdition sink ! 

[Enter a Scholar.] 

Scholar. I have but lately left my home, 
And with profound submission come, 
To hold with one some conversation 
Whom all men name with veneration. 

Mephiftopheles. Your courtesy greatly flatters me 
A man like many another you see. 
Have you made any applications elsewhere ? 

Scholar. Let me, I pray, your teachings mare ! 
With all good dispositions I come, 



9 2 



FAUST. 



A frefh young blood and money some ; 
My mother would hardly hear of my going ; 
But I long to learn here something worth knowing. 
Mephiftopheles. You've come to the very place 
for it, then. 

Scholar. Sincerely, could wifh I were of? again : 
My soul already has grown quite weary 
Of walls and halls, so dark and dreary, 
The narrowness oppresses me. 
One sees no green thing, not a tree. 
On the lecture-seats, I know not what ails me, 
Sight, hearing, thinking, every thing fails me. 

Mephiftopheles. 'Tis all in use, we daily see. 
The child takes not the mother's breaft 
In the firft inftance willingly, 
But soon it feeds itself with zeft. 
So you at wisdom's breaft your pleasure 
Will daily find in growing measure. 

Scholar. I'll hang upon her neck, a raptured 
wooer, 

But only tell me, who mall lead me to her? 

Mephiftopheles, Ere you go further, give your 

views 

As to which faculty you choose ? 

Scholar. To be right learn'd I've long desired, 
And of the natural world aspired 
To have a perfect comprehension 
In this and in the heavenly sphere. 



FAUST. 



93 



Mephiftopheles. I see you're on the right track 
here ; 

But you'll have to give undivided attention. 

Scholar. My heart and soul in the work'll be 
found ; 

Only, of course, it would give me pleasure, 
When summer holidays come round, 
To have for amusement a little leisure. 

Mephiftopheles. Use well the precious time, it 
flips away so, 
Yet method gains you time, if I may say so. 
I counsel you therefore, my worthy friend, 
The logical lectures firit. to attend. 
Then is your mind well trained and cased 
In Spanifli boots, 18 all snugly laced, 
So that henceforth it can creep ahead 
On the road of thought with a cautious tread, 
And not at random moot and ftrike, 
Zig-zagging Jack-o'-lanthorn-like. 
Then will you many a day be taught 
That what you once to do had thought 
Like eating and drinking, extempore, 
Requires the rule of one, two, three. 
It is, to be sure, with the fabric of thought , 
As with the chef d'ceuvre by weavers wrought, 
Where a thousand threads one treadle plies, 
Backward and forward the fhuttles keep going, 
Invisibly the threads keep flowing, 



94 



FAUST. 



One ftroke a thousand faftenings ties : 

Comes the philosopher and cries : 

I'll mow you, it could not be otherwise : 

The firft being so, the second so, 

The third and fourth muft of course be so ; 

And were not the firft. and second, you see, 

The third and fourth could never be. 

The scholars everywhere call this clever, 

But none have yet become weavers ever. 

Whoever will know a live thing and expound it, 

Firft kills out the spirit it had when he found it ; 

And then the parts are all in his hand, 

Minus only the spiritual band ! 

Encheiresin naturae's 19 the chemical name, 

By which dunces themselves unwittingly fhame. 

Scholar. Cannot entirely comprehend you. 

Mephiftopheles. Better success will fhortly attend 
you, 

When you learn to analyze all creation 
And give it a proper classification. 

Scholar. I feel as confused by all you've said, 
As if 'twere a mill-wheel going round in my head ! 

Mephiftopheles. The next thing moft important 
to mention, 
Metaphysics will claim your attention ! 
There see that you can clearly explain 
What fits not into the human brain : 
For that which will not go into the head, 
A pompous word will ftand you in ftead. 



FAUST. 



95 



But, this half-year, at leaft, observe 

From regularity never to swerve. 

You'll have five lectures every day ; 

Be in at the ftroke of the bell I pray ! 

And well prepared in every part j 

Study each paragraph by heart, 

So that you scarce may need to look 

To see that he says no more than's in the book ; 

And when he dictates, be at your port, 

As if you wrote for the Holy Ghoft ! 

Scholar. That caution is unnecessary ! 
I know it profits one a sight ! 
For what one has in black and white, 
He to his home can safely carry. 

Mephiftopheles. But choose some faculty, I pray ! 

Scholar. I feel a ftrong dislike to try the legal 
college. 

Mephiftopheles. I cannot blame you much, I muft 
acknowledge. 
I know how this profession flands to-day. 
Statutes and laws through all the ages 
Like a transmitted malady you trace ; 
In every generation ftill it rages 
And softly creeps, from place to place. 
Reason is nonsense, right an impudent suggeftion ; 
Alas for thee, that thou a grandson art ! 
Of inborn law in which each man has part, 
Of that, unfortunately, there's no queftion. 



FAUST. 



Scholar. My loathing grows beneath your speech. 
O happy he whom you mall teach ! 
To try theology I'm almoft minded. 
^ Mephiftopheles. I muft not let you by zeal be 
blinded. 

This is a science through whose field 
Nine out of ten in the wrong road will blunder, 
And in it so much poison lies concealed, 
That mould you this mistake for physic, no great 
wonder. 

Here also it were beft, if only one you heard 
And swore to that one mailer's word. 
Upon the whole — words only heed you ! 
These through the temple door will lead you 
Safe to the fhrine of certainty. 

Scholar. Yet in the word a thought muft surely be. 

Mephiftopheles. All right! But one muft not per- 
plex himself about it ; 
For juft where one muft go without it, 
The word comes in, a friend in need, to thee. 
With words can one dispute molt featly, 
With words build up a syftem neatly, 
In words thy faith may ftand unfhaken, 
From words there can be no iota taken. 

Scholar. Forgive my keeping you with many 
queftions, 
Yet muft I trouble you once more, 
Will you not give me, on the score 



FAUST. 



97 



Of medicine, some brief suggeftions ? 
Three years are a fhort time, O God ! 
And then the field is quite too broad. 
If one had only before his nose 
Something else as a hint to follow! — 

Mephiftopheles [aside], I'm heartily tired of this 
dry prose, 
Muft play the devil again out hollow. 

[Aloud.'] 

The healing art is quickly comprehended ; 
Through great and little world you look abroad, 
And let it wag, when all is ended, 
As pleases God. 

Vain is it that your science sweeps the fkies, 

Each, after all, learns only what he can ; 

Who grasps the moment as it flies 

He is the real man. 

Your person somewhat takes the eye, 

Boldness you'll find an easy science, 

And if you on yourself rely, 

Others on you will place reliance. 

In the women's good graces seek firft to be seated ; 

Their oh's and ah's, well known of old, 

So thousand-fold, 

Are all from a single point to be treated ; 

Be decently modeft and then with ease 

You may get the blind side of them when you please. 

A title, firft, their confidence muft waken, 

7 



98 



FAUST. 



That your art many another art transcends, 
Then may you, lucky man, on all those trifles 
reckon 

For which another years of groping spends : 
Know how to press the little pulse that dances, 
And fearlessly, with fly and fiery glances, 
Clasp the dear creatures round the waift 
To see how tightly they are laced. 

Scholar, This promises ! One loves the How 

and Where to see ! 
Mephiftopheles. Gray, worthy friend, is all your 
theory 

And green the golden tree of life. 

Scholar. I seem, 

I swear to you, like one who walks in dream. 
Might I another time, without encroaching, 
Hear you the deepen 1 things of wisdom broaching ? 

Mephiftopheles. So far as I have power, you may. 

Scholar. I cannot tear myself away, 
Till I to you my album have presented. 
Grant me one line and I'm contented ! 

Mephiftopheles. With pleasure. 

[Writes and returns it. 

Scholar [reads]. Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum 
et malum. 

[Shuts it reverently, and boms himself out. 
Mephiftopheles. Let but the brave old saw and 
my aunt, the serpent, guide thee, 



FAUST. 



99 



And, with thy likeness to God, fliall woe one day 
betide thee ! 

Fauft [enters] . Which way now fliall we go ? 

Mephiftopheles. Which way it pleases thee. 
The little world and then the great we see. 

with what gain, as well as pleasure, 
Wilt thou the rollicking cursus measure ! 

Fauft. I fear the easy life and free 
With my long beard will scarce agree. 
'Tis vain for me to think of succeeding, 

1 never could learn what is called good-breeding. 
In the presence of others I feel so small ; 

I never can be at my ease at all. 

Mephiftopheles. Dear friend, vain trouble to your- 
self you're giving ; 

Whence once you trufl yourself, you know the art 
of living. 

Fauft. But how are we to ftart, I pray ? 
Where are thy servants, coach and horses ? 

Mephiftopheles. We spread the mantle, and away 
It bears us on our airy courses. 
But, on this bold excursion, thou 
Muft take no great portmanteau now. 
A little oxygen, which I will soon make ready, 
From earth uplifts us, quick and fteady. 
And if we're light, we'll soon surmount the sphere ; 
I give thee hearty joy in this thy new career. 



100 



FAUST. 



auerbach's cellar in leipsic. 20 

Carousal of Jolly Companions. 

Frosch. 21 Will nobody drink ? Stop those grimaces ! 
I'll teach you how to be cutting your faces ! 
Laugh out! You're like wet ftraw to-day, 
And blaze, at other times, like dry hay. 

Brander. 'Tis all your fault ; no food for fun you 
bring, 

Not a nonsensical nor nafty thing. 

Frosch \dcjhcs a glass of wine over his head\. There 
you have both ! 

Brander. You hog twice o'er ! 

Frosch. You wanted it, what would you more ? 

Siebel. Out of the door with them that brawl ! 
Strike up a round ; swill, fhout there, one and all ! 
Wake up ! Hurra! 

Altmayer. Woe's me, I'm loft ! Bring cotton ! 
The rascal splits my ear-drum. 

Siebel. Only fhout on ! 

When all the arches ring and yell, 
Then does the base make felt its true ground-swell. 

Frosch. That's right, juft throw him out, who 
undertakes to fret ! 
A ! tara ! lara da ! 

Altmayer. A ! tara ! lara da ! 

Frosch. Our whiftles all are wet. 



FAUST. 



101 



[Sings.] 

The dear old holy Romifh realm, 
What holds it ftill together ? 
Brander. A sorry song! Fie! a political song! 
A tiresome song! Thank God each morning there- 
for, 

That you have not the Romifh realm to care for! 

At leaft I count it a great gain that He 

Kaiser nor chancellor has made of me. 

E'en we can't do without a head, however ; 

To choose a pope let us endeavour. 

You know what qualification throws 

The cafting vote and the true man mows. 

Frosch \sings\. Lady Nightingale, upward soar, 
Greet me my darling ten thousand times o'er. 

Siebel. No greetings to that girl! Who does so, 
I resent it! 

Frosch. A greeting and a kiss ! And you will not 

prevent it ! 

[Sings.] 

Draw the bolts ! the night is clear. 
Draw the bolts ! Love watches near. 
Close the bolts ! the dawn is here. 
Siebel. Ay, sing away and praise and glorify your 
dear! 

Soon I fhall have my time for laughter. 

The jade has jilted me, and will you too hereafter ; 

May Kobold, for a lover, be her luck ! 



102 



FAUST. 



At night may he upon the cross-way meet her \ 
Or, coming from the Blocksberg, some old buck 
May, as he gallops by, a good-night bleat her ! 
A fellow fine of real flefh and blood 
Is for the wench a deal too good. 
She'll get from me but one love-token, 
That is to have her window broken ! 

Brander [ftriking on the table] . Attend ! attend ! 
To me give ear! 
I know what's life, ye gents, confess it : 
We've lovesick people sitting near, 
And it is proper they mould hear 
A good-night ftrain as well as I can dress it. 
Give heed! And hear a bran-new song ! 
Join in the chorus loud and ftrong ! 

[He sings.'] 

A rat in the cellar had built his neft, 
He daily grew fleeker and smoother, 
He lined his paunch from larder and cheft, 
And was portly as Doctor Luther. 
The cook had set him poison one day -> 
From that time forward he pined away 
As if he had love in his body. 

Chorus [flouting]. As if he had love in his body. 

Brander. He raced about with a terrible touse, 
From all the puddles went swilling, 
He gnawed and he scratched all over the house, 
His pain there was no ftilling ; 



FAUST. 



I 



He made full many a jump of diftress, 
And soon the poor beaft got enough, I guess, 
As if he had love in his body. 
Chorus. As if he had love in his body. 
Brander. With pain he ran, in open day, 
Right up into the kitchen ; 
He fell on the hearth and there he lay 
Gasping and moaning and twitchin'. 
Then laughed the poisoner : " He ! he ! he ! 
He's piping on the laft hole," said fhe, 
"As if he had love in his body." 
Chorus. As if he had love in his body. 
Siebel. Juft hear now how the ninnies giggle ! 
That's what I call a genuine art, 
To make poor rats with poison wriggle ! 

Brander. You take their case so much to heart 
Altmayer. The bald pate and the butter-belly ! 
The sad tale makes him mild and tame ; 
He sees in the swollen rat, poor fellow ! 
His own true likeness set in a frame. 

Faust and Mephistopheles. 
Mephiftopheles. . Now, firft of all, 'tis necessary 
To mow you people making merry, 
That you may see how lightly life can run. 
Each day to this small folk's a feaft of fun ; 
Not over-witty, self-contented, 
Still round and round in circle-dance they whirl, 
As with their tails young kittens twirl. 



FAUST. 



If with no headache they're tormented, 
Nor dunned by landlord for his pay, 
They're careless, unconcerned, and gay. 

Brander. They're frefti from travel, one might 
know it, 

Their air and manner plainly mow it j 
They came here not an hour ago. 

Frosch. Thou verily art right! My Leipsic well 
I know! 

Paris in small it is, and cultivates its people. 

Siebel. What do the ftrangers seem to thee ? 

Frosch. Juft let me go! When wine our friend- 
fhip mellows, 
Easy as drawing a child's tooth 'twill be 
To worm their secrets out of these two fellows. 
They're of a noble house, I dare to swear, 
They have a proud and discontented air. 

Brander. They're mountebanks, I'll bet a dol- 
lar! 

Altmayer. Perhaps. 

Frosch. I'll smoke them, mark you that! 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauft]. These people never 
smell the old rat, 
E'en when he has them by the collar. 

Fauft. Fair greeting to you, sirs ! 

Siebel. The same, and thanks to boot. 

[In a lonx) tone, taking a side look at Mephistopheles.] 
Why has the churl one halting foot ? 



FAUST. 105 

Mephiftopheles. With your permission, mall we 
make one party ? 
Inftead of a good drink, which get here no one can, 
Good company muft make us hearty. 

Altmayer. You seem a very faftidious man. 
Frosch. I think you spent some time at Rippach 22 
lately ? 

You supped with Mifter Hans not long since, I dare 
say ? 

Mephiftopheles. We passed him on the road to- 
day ! 

Fine man ! it grieved us parting with him, greatly. 
He'd much to say to us about his cousins, 
And sent to each, through us, his compliments by 
dozens. 

[He boivs to Frosch.] 

Altmayer \softly\ . You've got it there ! he takes ! 

Siebel. The chap don't want for wit ! 

Frosch. I'll have him next time, wait a bit ! 

Mephiftopheles. If I mistook not, didn't we hear 
Some well-trained voices chorus singing ? 
'Faith, music muft sound finely here, 
From all these echoing arches ringing ! 

Frosch. You are perhaps a connoisseur ? 

Mephiftopheles. O no ! my powers are small, I'm 
but an amateur. 

Altmayer. Give us a song ! 

Mephiftopheles. As many's you desire. 



io6 



FAUST. 



Siebel. But let it be a bran-new ftrain! 
Mephiftopheles. No fear of that! We've juft 
come back from Spain, 
The lovely land of wine and song and lyre. 

[Sings.] 

There was a king, right ftately, 
Who had a great, big flea, — 
Frosch. Hear him! A flea! D'ye take there, 
boys ? A flea ! 
I call that genteel company. 

Mephiftopheles [resumes'] . There was a king, right 
stately, 
Who had a great, big flea, 
And loved him very greatly, 
As if his own son were he. 
He called the knight of stitches ; 
The tailor came straightway : 
Ho ! measure the youngster for breeches, 
And make him a coat to-day ! 
Brander. But don't forget to charge the knight 
of stitches, 
The measure carefully to take, 
And, as he loves his precious neck, 
To leave no wrinkles in the breeches. 

Mephiftopheles. In silk and velvet splendid 
The creature now was drest, 
To his coat were ribbons appended, 
A cross was on his breast. 



FAUST. 



IO; 



He had a great star on his collar. 
Was a minister, in fhort ; 
And his relatives, greater and smaller, 
Became great people at court. 

The lords and ladies of honor 

Fared worse than if they were hung, 

The queen, Ihe got them upon her, 

And all were bitten and stung, 

And did not dare to attack them, 

Nor scratch, but let them stick. 

We choke them and we crack them 

The moment we feel one prick. 
Chorus \_loud~]. We choke 'em and we crack 'em 

The moment we feel one prick. 
Frosch. Bravo ! Bravo ! That was fine ! 
Siebel. So mall each flea his life resign ! 
Brander. Point your fingers and nip them fine ! 
Altmayer. Hurra for Liberty ! Hurra for Wine ! 
Mephiftopheles. I'd pledge the goddess, too, to 

mow how high I set her, 
Right gladly, if your wines were just a trifle better. 
Siebel. Don't say that thing again, you fretter ! 
Mephiftopheles. Did I not fear the landlord to 

affront 5 

I'd mow these worthy guests this minute 
What kind of stuff our stock has in it. 

Siebel. Just bring it on ! I'll bear the brunt. 



io8 



FAUST. 



Frosch. Give us a brimming glass, our praise 
mail then be ample, 
But don't dole out too small a sample ; 
For if I'm to judge and criticize, 
I need a good mouthful to make me wise. 

Altmayer [softly]. They're from the Rhine, as 

near as I can make it. 
Mephistopheles. Bring us a gimlet here ! 
Brander. What mall be done with that ? 
You've not the cafks before the door, I take it ? 
Altmayer. The landlord's tool-chest there is easily- 
got at. 

Mephistopheles [takes the gimlet] (to Frosch). What 
will you have ? It costs but speaking. 

Frosch. How do you mean ? Have you so many 
kinds ? 

Mephistopheles. Enough to suit all sorts of minds. 
Altmayer. Aha ! old sot, your lips already licking ! 
Frosch. Well, then! if I must choose, let Rhine- 
wine fill my beaker, 
Our fatherland supplies the noblest liquor. 

MEPHISTOPHELES 
[boring a hole in the rim of the table near the place uohere 
Frosch sits]. 

Get us a little wax right ofF to make the stoppers ! 
Altmayer. Ah, these are jugglers' tricks, and 

whappers ! 
Mephistopheles [to Brander] . And you ? 



FAUST. IO9 

Brander. Champaigne's the wine for me, 
But then right sparkling it must be ! 
[Mephistopheles bores ; meanuuhile one of them has made the 
^wax-stoppers, and stopped the holes.~\ 

Brander. Hankerings for foreign things will some- 
times haunt you, 
The good so far one often finds ; 
Your real German man can't bear the French, I 

grant you, 
And yet will gladly drink their wines. 

Siebel [while Mephiftopheles approaches his seat]. I 
don't like sour, it sets my mouth awry, 
Let mine have real sweetness in it ! 

Mephiftopheles [bores]. Well, you (hall have Tokay 

this minute. 
Altmayer. No, sirs, just look me in the eye ! 
I see through this, 'tis what the chaps call smoking. 
Mephiftopheles. Come now ! That would be se- 
rious joking, 
To make so free with worthy men. 
But quickly now ! Speak out again ! 
With what description can I serve you ? 

Altmayer. Wait not to afk ; with any, then. 

{After all the holes are bored and stopped^ 
Mephiftopheles [with singular gestures]. From the 
vine-stock grapes we pluck j 
Horns grow on the buck ; 
Wine is juicy, the wooden table, 



no 



FAUST. 



Like wooden vines, to give wine is able. 
An eye for nature's depths receive ! 
Here is a miracle, only believe ! 
Now draw the plugs and drink your fill ! 

All 

[drawing the stoppers, and catching each in his glass the wine 
he had desired]. 

Sweet spring, that yields us what we will ! 

Mephiftopheles. Only be careful not a drop to 
spill! 

[They drink repeatedly .] 
All \sing\. We're happy all as cannibals, 

Five hundred hogs together. 
Mephiftopheles. Look at them now, they're happy 
as can be ! 

Fauft. To go would suit my inclination. 
Mephiftopheles. But first give heed, their bestiality 
Will make a glorious demonstration. 

Siebel 

[drinks carelessly ; the wine is spilt upon the ground and turns 
to flame']. 

Help ! Fire ! Ho ! Help ! The flames of hell ! 
Mephiftopheles [conjuring the jlame\. Peace, friendly 
element, be still ! 

[To the Toper ^ 

This time 'twas but a drop of fire from purgatory. 
Siebel. What does this mean ? Wait there, or 
you'll be sorry ! 
It seems you do not know us well. 



FAUST. 



Ill 



Frosch. Not twice, in this way, will it do to joke 
us ! 

Altmayer. I vote, we give him leave himself here 

scarce to make. 
Siebel. What, sir ! How dare you undertake 
To carry on here your old hocus-pocus ? 
Mephiftopheles. Be still, old wine-cafk! 
Siebel. Broomstick, you ! 

Insult to injury add ? Confound you! 

Brander. Stop there ! Or blows mail rain down 
round you ! 

Altmayer 

[drauus a stopper out of the table ; fire flies at hint], 
I burn! I burn! 

Siebel. Foul sorcery ! Shame ! 
Lay on ! the rascal is fair game ! 

[They drauo their kni<ves and rush at Mephistopheles.] 
Mephiftopheles [with a serious mien]. Word and 
fhape of air ! 
Change place, new meaning wear ! 
Be here — and there! 
[They stand astounded and look at each other.'] 
Altmayer. Where am I ? What a charming land ! 
Frosch. Vine hills! My eyes! Is't true ? 
Siebel. And grapes, too, close at hand! 
Brander. Beneath this green see what a stem is 
growing ! 

See what a bunch of grapes is glowing ! 



112 



FAUST. 



[He seizes Siebel by the nose. The rest do the same to each 
other and raise their knives."] 

Mephiftopheles [as above]. Loose, Error, from their 
eyes the band ! 
How Satan plays his tricks, you need not now be told 
of. 

[He vanishes uuith Faust, the companions start back from each 
other.] 

Siebel. What ails me ? 
Altmayer. How ? 

Frosch. Was that thy nose, friend, I had hold of? 
Brander [to Siebel]. And I have thine, too, in my 
hand ! 

Altmayer. O what a mock ! through all my limbs 
'tis crawling! 
Get me a chair, be quick, I'm falling! 

Frosch. No, say what was the real case ? 
Siebel. O mow me where the churl is hiding ! 
Alive he mail not leave the place ! 

Altmayer. Out through the cellar-door I saw him 
riding — 

Upon a cafk — he went full chase. — 
Heavy as lead my feet are growing. 

[Turning towards the tabled] 
My ! If the wine mould yet be flowing. 

Siebel. 'Twas all deception and moonfhine. 

Frosch. Yet I was sure I did drink wine. 

Brander. But how about the bunches, brother ? 

Altmayer. After such miracles, I'll doubt no other ! 



FAUST. 



witches' kitchen. 

[On a Iovj hearth stands a great kettle over the fire. In the 
smoke, ivhich rises from it, are seen various forms. A 
female monkey^ sits by the kettle and skims it, and takes care 
that it does not run over. The male monkey ivith the young 
ones sits close by, ivarming himself. Walls and ceiling are 
adorned ivith the most singular voitch -household stuff.] 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Fauft. Would that this vile witch-business were 

well over ! 
Doft promise me I mail recover 
In this hodge-podge of craziness ? 
From an old hag do I advice require ? 
And will this filthy cooked-up mess 
My youth by thirty years bring nigher ? 
Woe's me, if that's the befl: you know ! 
Already hope is from my bosom banifhed. 
Has not a noble mind found long ago 
Some balsam to reltore a youth that's vanifhed ? 
Mephijiopheles. My friend, again thou speakeft a 

wise thought! 
I know a natural way to make thee young, — none 

apter ! 

But in another book it muft be sought, 
And is a quite peculiar chapter. 
Fauft. I beg to know it. 

8 



ii 4 



FAUST. 



Mephijiopheles . Well ! here's one that needs no 

P a y> 

No help of physic, nor enchanting. 

Out to the fields without delay, 

And take to hacking, digging, planting ; 

Run the same round from day to day, 

A treadmill-life, contented, leading, 

With simple fare both mind and body feeding, 

Live with the beaft as beaft, nor count it robbery 

Shouldft thou manure, thyself, the field thou reapeft ; 

Follow this course and, truft to me, 

For eighty years thy youth thou keepeft ! 

Fauft. I am not used to that, I ne'er could bring 
me to it, 

To wield the spade, I could not do it. 
The narrow life befits me not at all. 

Mephijiopheles. So muft we on the witch, then, 
call. 

Fauft. But why juft that old hag ? Canft thou 
Not brew thyself the needful liquor ? 

Mephijiopheles. That were a pretty paftime now' 
I'd build about a thousand bridges quicker. 
Science and art alone won't do, 
The work will call for patience, too ; 
Cofts a (till spirit years of occupation : 
Time, only, ftrengthens the fine fermentation. 
To tell each thing that forms a part 
Would sound to thee like wildeft fable ! 



FAUST. 



The devil indeed has taught the art ; 
To make it not the devil is able. 

[Espying the animals.] 
See, what a genteel breed we here parade ! 
This is the house-boy ! that's the maid ! 

[To the animals.] 
Where's the old lady gone a mousing ? 
The animals. Carousing j 
Out me went 
By the chimney-vent! 
Mephiftopheles. How long does me spend in gad- 
ding and ftorming ? 
The animals. While we are giving our paws a 
warming. 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauft], How do you find the 

dainty creatures ? 
Fauft. Disgufting as I ever chanced to see! 
Mephiftopheles. No ! a discourse like this to me, 
I own, is one of life's mo ft pleasant features ; * 

[To the animals.] 
Say, cursed dolls, that sweat, there, toiling! 
What are you twirling with the spoon ? 

Animals. A common beggar-soup we're boiling. 
Mephiftopheles. You'll have a run of cuftom soon. 
The he-monkey 

[Comes along and faivns on Mephistopheles]. 
O fling up the dice, 
Make me rich in a trice, 



n6 



FAUST. 



Turn fortune's wheel over ! 
My lot is right bad, 
If money I had, 
My wits would recover. 
Mephiftopheles. The monkey 'd be as merry as 
a cricket, 

Would somebody give him a lottery-ticket! 

[Meanwhile the young monkeys have been playing <with a great 
ball, "which they roll backward and forward.] 

The monkey. The world's the ball ; 

See't rise and fall, 

Its roll you follow ; 

Like glass it rings : 

Both, brittle things ! 

Within 'tis hollow. 

There it mines clear, 

And brighter here, — 

I live—by 'Polio !— 

Dear son, I pray, 

Keep hands away! 

Thou malt fall so! 

'Tis made of clay, 

Pots are, also. 
Mephiftopheles. What means the sieve ? 
The monkey [takes it down]. Wert thou a thief, 

'Twould mow the thief and fharne him. 
[Runs to his mate and makes her look through.'] 

Look through the sieve ! 



FAUST. 



117 



Discern'ft thou the thief, 
And dareft not name him ? 
Mephiftopheles [approaching the fire\. And what's 
this pot ? 

The monkeys. The dunce' I'll be mot! 

He knows not the pot, 

He knows not the kettle ! 
Mephiftopheles. Impertinence ! Hum ! 
The monkey. Here, take you the brum, 

And sit on the settle ! 
[He forces Mephistopheles to sit down.] 

Faust 

[fwho all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, no<zu 
approaching and no<w receding from it]. 

What do I see ? What heavenly face 

Doth, in this magic glass, enchant me ! 

O love, in mercy, now, thy swifteft pinions grant me ! 

And bear me to her field of space ! 

Ah, if I seek to approach what doth so haunt me, 

If from this spot I dare to ftir, 

Dimly as through a mift I gaze on her ! — 

The lovelieft vision of a woman ! 

Such lovely woman can there be ? 

Muft I in these reposing limbs naught human, 

But of all heavens the fineft essence see ? 

Was such a thing on earth seen ever ? 

Mephiftopheles. Why, when you see a God six 
days in hard work spend, 



n8 



FAUST. 



And then cry bravo at the end, 

Of course you look for something clever. 

Look now thy fill ; I have for thee 

Juft such a jewel, and will lead thee to her ; 

And happy, whose good fortune it mail be, 

To bear her home, a prospered wooer! 

[Faust keeps on looking into the mirror. Mephistopheles 
stretching himself out on the settle and playing <with the brush, 
continues speaking."] 

Here sit I like a king upon his throne, 
The sceptre in my hand, — I want the crown alone. 
The Animals 

[fwho up to this time have been going through all sorts of queer 
antics ivith each other, bring Mephistopheles a cronvn ivith 
a loud cry"]. 

O do be so good, — 

With sweat and with blood, 

To take it and lime it ; 

[They go about clumsily tuith the crown and break it into Pwo 
pieces, 'with uohich they jump round. ~\ 

'Tis done now ! We're free ! 
We speak and we see, 
We hear and we rhyme it ; 
Fauft [ facing the mirror]. Woe's me ! I've al- 

moft loft my wits. 
Mephiftopheles [pointing to the animals]. My head, 

too, I confess, is very near to spinning. 
The animals. And then if it hits, 



FAUST. 



II 9 



And every thing fits, 
We've thoughts for our winning. 
Fauft [as before]. Up to my heart the flame is 
flying ! 

Let us begone — there's danger near ! 

Mephiftopheles [in the former position] . Well, this, 
at leaft, there's no denying, 
That we have undissembled poets here. 

[The kettle, uohich the she-monkey has hitherto left unmatched, 
Begins to run over ; a great flame breaks out, ivhtch roars up 
the chimney. The Witch comes riding dotvn through the 
flame ivith a terrible outcry. ~\ 

Witch. Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! 

The damned beaft ! The cursed sow ! 

Neglected the kettle, scorched the Frau ! 

The cursed crew ! 

[Seeing Faust and Mephistopheles.] 

And who are you ? 

And what d'ye do ? 

And what d'ye want ? 

And who sneaked in ? 

The fire-plague grim 

Shall light on him 

In every limb ! 

[She makes a di<ve at the kettle ivitb the skimmer and spatters 
flames at Faust, Mephistopheles, and the creatures. These 
last ivhimper.'] 



120 



FAUST. 



Mephistopheles 

[inverting the brush njjhich he holds in his hand, and striking 
among the glasses and pots']. 

In two ! In two ! 

There lies the brew ! 

There lies the glass ! 

This joke muft pass 

For time-beat, ass ! 

To thy melody, 'twill do. 
\JVhile the Witch starts back full of ivrath and horror."] 
Skeleton ! Scarcecrow ! Spectre ! Know'ft thou me, 
Thy lord and mailer ? What prevents my darning 
Right in among thy cursed company, 
Thyself and all thy monkey spirits smafhing ? 
Has the red waiftcoat thy respect no more ? 
Has the cock's-feather, too, escaped attention ? 
Haft never seen this face before ? 
My name, perchance, wouldft have me mention ? 

The witch. Pardon the rudeness, sir, in me ! 
But sure no cloven foot I see. 
Nor find I your two ravens either. 

Mephiftopheles. I'll let thee off for this once so ; 
For a long while has passed, full well I know, 
Since the laft time we met together. 
The culture, too, which licks the world to fhape, 
The devil himself cannot escape ; 
The phantom of the North men's thoughts have left 
behind them, 



FAUST. 



121 



Horns, tail, and claws, where now d'ye find them ? 
And for the foot, with which dispense I nowise can, 
'Twould with good circles hurt my ftanding ; 
And so I've worn, some years, like many a fine 

young man, 
False calves to make me more commanding. 

The witch [dancing']. O I mall lose my wits, I 

fear, 

Do I, again, see Squire Satan here ! 

Mephiftopheles. Woman, the name offends my ear ! 
The witch. Why so ? What has it done to 
you ? 

Mephiftopheles. It has long since to fable-books 

been banifhed ; 
But men are none the better for it ; true, 
The wicked one, but not the wicked ones, has van- 

ifhed. 

Herr Baron callft thou me, then all is right and good ; 
I am a cavalier, like others. Doubt me ? 
Doubt for a moment of my noble blood ? 
See here the family arms I bear about me! 

\He makes an indecent gesture^ 
The witch [laughs immoderately]. Ha! ha! full 
well I know you, sir! 
You are the same old rogue you always were ! 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauft\. I pray you, carefully 
attend, 

This is the way to deal with witches, friend. 



122 



FAUST. 



The witch. Now, gentles, what mall I produce ? 

Mephiftopheles. A right good glassful of the well- 
known juice ! 
And pray you, let it be the oldeft ; 
Age makes it doubly ftrong for use. 

The witch. Right gladly! Here I have a bottle, 
From which, at times, I wet my throttle ; 
Which now, not in the nighteft, ilinks ; 
A glass to you I don't mind giving ; 

(Softly.-] 

But if this man, without preparing, drinks, 
He has not, well you know, another hour for living. 
Mephiftopheles. 'Tis a good friend of mine, whom 
it mail ftraight cheer up ; 
Thy kitchen's beft to give him don't delay thee. 
Thy ring — thy spell, now, quick, I pray thee, 
And give him then a good full cup. 

\_The Witch, <witb strange gestures, draivs a circle, and places 
singular things in its meanivhile the glasses begin to ring, 
the kettle to sound and make music. Finally, she brings a 
great book and places the monkeys in the circle, "whom she uses 
as a reading-desk and to hold the torches. She beckons Faust 
to come to her.] 

Fauft [to Mephiftopheles']. Hold ! what will come 
of this ? These creatures, 
These frantic geftures and distorted features, 
And all the crazy, juggling fluff, 
I've known and loathed it long enough ! 



FAUST. 



123 



Mephiflopheles. Pugh ! that is only done to smoke 
us 

Don't be so serious, my man ! 
She muft, as Doctor, play her hocus-pocus 
To make the dose work better, that's the plan. 
[He constrains Faust to step into the circle."] 
The Witch 

[beginning •with great emphasis to declaim out of the hook]. 

Remember then ! 

Of One make Ten, 

The Two let be, 

Make even Three, 

There's wealth for thee. 

The Four pass o'er ! 

Of Five and Six, 

(The witch so speaks,) 

Make Seven and Eight, 

The thing is ftraight : 

And Nine is One 

And Ten is none — 

This is the witch's one-time-one ! 24 
Fauft. The old hag talks like one delirious. 
Mephiflopheles, There's much more ftill, no less 
myfterious, 

I know it well, the whole book sounds juft so ! 
I've loft full many a year in poring o'er it, 
For perfect contradiction, you muft know, 



124 



FAUST. 



A myftery ftands, and fools and wise men bow 
fore it. 

The art is old and new, my son. 
Men, in all times, by craft and terror, 
With One and Three, and Three and One, 
For truth have propagated error. 
They've gone on gabbling so a thousand years ; 
Who on the fools would wafte a minute ? 
Man generally thinks, if words he only hears, 
Articulated noise irruft have some meaning in it. 
The witch [goes on]. Deep wisdom's power 

Has, to this hour, 

From all the world been hidden ! 

Whoso thinks not, 

To him 'tis brought, 

To him it comes unbidden. 
Fauft. What nonsense is me talking here ? 
My heart is on the point of cracking. 
In one great choir I seem to hear 
A hundred thousand ninnies clacking. 

Mephtftopheles. Enough, enough, rare Sibyl, 
us 

These runes no more, thy beverage bring us, 
And quickly fill the goblet to the brim ; 
This drink may by my friend be safely taken : 
Full many grades the man can reckon, 
Many good swigs have entered him. 



FAUST. 



125 



\The Witch, 'with many ceremonies, pours the drink into 
a cup; as she puts it to Faust's lips, there rises a light 
flame. ~\ 

Mephiftopheles. Down with it! Gulp it down^ 
'Twill prove 
All that thy heart's wild wants desire. 
Thou, with the devil, hand and glove,25 
And yet wilt be afraid of fire ? 

[The Witch breaks the circle ; Faust steps out."] 

Mephiftopheles. Now brifkly forth ! No reft for 
thee ! 

The witch. Much comfort may the drink afford 
you ! 

Mephiftopheles [to the witch']. And any favor you 
may afk of me, 
I'll gladly on Walpurgis' night accord you. 

The witch. Here is a song, which if you some- 
times sing, 
'Twill ftir up in your heart a special fire. 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauft~\. Only make hafte ; and 
even mouldft thou tire, 
Still follow me ; one muft perspire, 
That it may set his nerves all quivering. 
I'll teach thee by and bye to prize a noble leisure, 
And soon, too, malt thou feel with hearty pleasure, 
How busy Cupid ftirs, and makes his nimble wing. 



126 FAUST. 

Fauft. But firft one look in yonder glass, I pray 
thee ! 

Such beauty I no more may find ! 

Mephiftopheles. Nay ! in the flem thine eyes mall 
soon display thee 
The model of all woman-kind. 

ISoftly.-] 

Soon will, when once this drink mail heat thee, 
In every girl a Helen meet thee ! 



FAUST. 



127 



A STREET. 
Faust. Margaret [passing o<ver~\. 

Fauft. My fair young lady, will it offend her 
If I offer my arm and escort to lend her ? 

Margaret. Am neither lady, nor yet am fair ! 
Can find my way home without any one's care. 
[Disengages herself and exit.'] 

Fauft. By heavens, but then the child is fair ! 
I've never seen the like, I swear. 
So modeft is me and so pure, 
And somewhat saucy, too, to be sure. 
The light of the cheek, the lip's red bloom, 
I mail never forget to the day of doom ! 
How me caff down her lovely eyes, 
Deep in my soul imprinted lies j 
How me spoke up, so curt and tart, 
Ah, that went right to my raviflied heart ! 

[Enter Mephistopheles.] 

Fauft. Hark, thou malt find me a way to address 
her! 

Mephiftopheles. Which one ? 

Fauft. She juft went by. 

Mephiftopheles. What ! She ? 

She came juft now from her father confessor, 
Who from all sins pronounced her free ; 
I ftole behind her noiselessly, 



128 



FAUST. 



'Tis an innocent thing, who, for nothing at all, 
Muft go to the confessional ; 
O'er such as me no power I hold! 

Fauft. But then fhe's over fourteen years old. 

Mephiftopheles. Thou speak'ft exactly like Jack 
Rake, 

Who every fair flower his own would make. 
And thinks there can be no favor nor fame, 
But one may ftraightway pluck the same. 
But 'twill not always do, we see. 

Fauft. My worthy Mafter Gravity, 
Let not a word of the Law be spoken ! 
One thing be clearly underftood, — 
Unless I clasp the sweet, young blood 
This night in my arms — then, well and good : 
When midnight ftrikes, our bond is broken. 

Mephiftopheles. Reflect on all that lies in the 
way ! 

I need a fortnight, at leaft, to a day, 

For finding so much as a way to reach her. 

Fauft. Had I seven hours, to call my own, 
Without the devil's aid, alone 
I'd snare with ease so young a creature. 

Mephiftopheles. You talk quite Frenchman-like 
to-day ; 

But don't be vexed beyond all measure. 
What boots it thus to snatch at pleasure ? 
'Tis not so great, by a long way, 



FAUST. 



129 



As if you nrft, with tender twaddle, 
And every sort of fiddle-faddle, 
Your little doll mould mould and knead, 
As one in French romances may read. 

Faujf. My appetite needs no such spur. 

Mephiftopheles. Now, then, without a jeft or flur, 
I tell you, once for all, such speed 
With the fair creature won't succeed. 
Nothing will here by ftorm be taken ; 
We muft perforce on intrigue reckon. 

Fauji. Get me some trinket the angel has bleft ! 
Lead me to her chamber of reft ! 
Get me a 'kerchief from her neck, 
A garter get me for love's sweet sake ! 

Mephiftopheles. To prove to you my willingness 
To aid and serve you in this diftress ; 
You fhall visit her chamber, by me attended, 
Before the passing day is ended. 

Fauft. And see her, too ? and have her ? 

Mephiftopheles. Nay ! 

She will to a neighbor's have gone away. 
Meanwhile alone by yourself you may, 
There in her atmosphere, feaft at leisure 
And revel in dreams of future pleasure. 

Fauft. Shall we ftart at once ? 

Mephiftopheles. 'Tis too early yet. 

Fauft. Some present to take her for me you muft 
get. 

9 \Exit. 



130 



FAUST. 



Mephiftopheles. Presents already ! Brave ! He's 
on the right foundation ! 
Full many a noble place I know, 
And treasure buried long ago ; 
Muft make a bit of exploration. 



FAUST. 



EVENING. 

A little cleanly Chamber. 

Margaret 

[braiding and tying up her hair]. 
Pd give a penny juft to say 
What gentleman that was to-day ! 
How very gallant he seemed to be, 
He's of a noble family ; 

That I could read from his brow and bearing — 
And he would not have otherwise been so daring. 

{Exit. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 
Mephiftopheles. Come in, ftep softly, do not fear ! 
Fauft [after a pause"]. Leave me alone, I prithee, 
here ! 

Mephiftopheles [peering round]. Not every maiden 
keeps so neat. 

[Exit. 

Fauft [gazing round]. Welcome this hallowed 
{till retreat ! 
Where twilight weaves its magic glow. 
Seize on my heart, love-longing, sad and sweet, 
That on the dew of hope doft feed thy woe ! 
How breathes around the sense of ftillness, 
Of quiet, order, and content ! 
In all this poverty what fulness ! 
What blessedness within this prison pent ! 

[He throws himself into a leathern chair by the bed.] 



132 



FAUST. 



Take me, too ! as thou haft, in years long flown, 

In joy and grief, so many a generation ! 

Ah me ! how oft, on this anceftral throne, 

Have troops of children climbed with exultation ! 

Perhaps, when Chriftmas brought the Holy Gueft, 

My love has here, in grateful veneration 

The grandsire's withered hand with child-lips preft. 

I feel, O maiden, circling me, 

Thy spirit of grace and fulness hover, 

Which daily like a mother teaches thee 

The table-cloth to spread in snowy purity, 

And even, with crinkled sand the floor to cover. 

Dear, godlike hand ! a touch of thine 

Makes this low house a heavenly kingdom mine ! 

And here ! 

[He lifts a bed-curtain.'] 
What blissful awe my heart thrills through ! 
Here for long hours could I linger. 
Here, Nature ! in light dreams, thy airy finger 
The inborn angel's features drew ! 
Here lay the child, when life's frem heavings 
Its tender bosom firft made warm, 
And here with pure, myfterious weavings 
The spirit wrought its godlike form! 

And thou ! What brought thee here ? what powei 
Stirs in my deepeft soul this hour ? 
What wouldft thou here ? What makes thy heart 
so sore ? 

Unhappy Fauft! I know thee thus no more. 



FAUST. 



*33 



Breathe I a magic atmosphere ? 
The will to enjoy how ftrong I felt it, — 
And in a dream of love am now all melted ! 
Are we the sport of every puff of air ? 

And if file suddenly mould enter now, 
How would me thy presumptuous folly humble ! 
Big John-o'dreams ! ah, how wouldfr. thou 
Sink at her feet, collapse and crumble ! 

Mephiftopheles. Quick, now ! She comes ! I'm 
looking at her. 

Fauft. Away ! Away ! O cruel fate ! 

Mephiftopheles. Here is a box of moderate weight ; 
I got it somewhere else — no matter ! 
Juft fhut it up, here, in the press, 
I swear to you, 'twill turn her senses ; 
I meant the trifles, I confess, 
To scale another fair one's fences. 
True, child is child and play is play. 

Fauft. Shall I ? I know not. 

Mephiftopheles. Why delay ? 

You mean perhaps to keep the bauble ? 
If so, I counsel you to spare 
From idle passion hours so fair, 
And me, henceforth, all further trouble. 
I hope you are not avaricious ! 
I rub my hands, I scratch my head — 



[He places the casket in the press and locks it up again.~\ 



134 FAUST. 

(Quick! Time we sped!) — 

That the dear creature may be led 

And moulded, by your will and wiflies ; 

And you ftand here as glum, 

As one at the door of the auditorium, 

As if before your eyes you saw 

In bodily fhape, with breathless awe, 

Metaphysics and physics, grim and gray! 

Away ! 

[Exit. 

Margaret [zuith a lamp]. It seems so close, so 
muggy here. 

\_Sbe opens the ivindoiv.'] 
Yet it isn't so very warm out there, 
I feel — I know not how — oh dear! 
I wifh my mother 'Id come home, I declare ! 
I feel a fhudder all over me crawl — 
I'm a silly, timid thing, that's all ! 

\_She begins to sing, 'while undressing.] 
There was a king in Thule, 
To whom, v/hen near her grave, 
The miftress he loved so truly 
A golden goblet gave. 

He cherimed it as a lover, 
He drained it, every bout ; 
His eyes with tears ran over, 
As oft as he drank thereout. 



FAUST. 



And when he found himself dying, 
His towns and cities he told ; 
Naught else to his heir denying 
Save only the goblet of gold. 

His knights he ftraightway gathers 
And in the midft sate he, 
In the banquet hall of the fathers 
In the caftle over the sea. 

There flood th' old knight of liquor, 
And drank the laft life-glow, 
Then flung the holy beaker 
Into the flood below. 

He saw it plunging, drinking 
And sinking in the roar, 
His eyes in death were sinking, 
He never drank one drop more. 

[She opens (he press, to put avoay her clothes, and discovers the 
casket. ,] 

How in the world came this fine cafket here ? 

I locked the press, I'm very clear. 1 

I wonder what's inside! Dear me! it's very queer! 

Perhaps 'twas brought here as a pawn, 

In place of something mother lent. 

Here is a little key hung on, 

A single peep I fhan't repent ! 



136 



FAUST. 



What's here ? Good gracious ! only see ! 
I never saw the like in my born days ! 
On some chief feftival such finery 
Might on some noble lady blaze. 
How would this chain become my neck ! 
Whose may this splendor be, so lonely ? 

[She arrays herself in it, and steps before the glass. ~\ 
Could I but claim the ear-rings only ! 
A different figure one would make. 
What's beauty worth to thee, young blood ! 
May all be very well and good ; 
What then ? 'Tis half for pity's sake 
They praise your pretty features. 
Each burns for gold, 
All turns on gold, — 
Alas for us ! poor creatures ! 



FAUST. 



J 37 



PROMENADE. 

Faust [going up and do<von in thought.'] Mephistopheles to 
him. 

Mephiftopheles. By all that ever was jilted ! By 
all the infernal fires ! 
I wifh I knew something worse, to curse as my heart 
desires ! 

Fauft. What griping pain has hold of thee ? 
Such grins ne'er saw I in the worft ftage-ranter ! 
Mephiftopheles. Oh, to the devil I'd give myself 
inftanter, 
If I were not already he ! 

Fauft. Some pin's loose in your head, old fellow ! 
That fits you, like a madman thus to bellow ! 

Mephiftopheles. Jufr. think, the pretty toy we got 
for Peg, 

A prieft has hooked, the cursed plague ! — 
The thing came under the eye of the mother, 
And caused her a dreadful internal pother : 
The woman's scent is fine and ftrong ; 
Snuffles over her prayer-book all day long, 
And knows, by the smell of an article, plain, 
Whether the thing is holy or profane ; 
And as to the box me was soon aware 
There could not be much blessing there. 
" My child," fhe cried, " unrighteous gains 
Ensnare the soul, dry up the veins. 



I38 FAUST. 

We'll consecrate it to God's mother, 

She'll give us some heavenly manna or other ! " 

Little Margaret made a wry face ; " I see 

'Tis, after all, a gift horse," said me ; 

"And sure, no godless one is he 

Who brought it here so handsomely." 

The mother sent for a prieft (they're cunning) ; 

Who scarce had found what game was running, 

When he rolled his greedy eyes like a lizard, 

And, " all is rightly disposed," said he, 

" Who conquers wins, for a certainty. 

The church has of old a famous gizzard, 

She calls it little whole lands to devour, 

Yet never a surfeit got to this hour ; 

The church alone, dear ladies, sans queftion, 

Can give unrighteous gains digeftion." 

Fauft. That is a general practice, too, 
Common alike with king and Jew. 

Mephiftopheles. Then pocketed bracelets and chains 
and rings 

As if they were mufhrooms or some such things, 
With no more thanks, (the greedy-guts !) 
Than if it had been a bafket of nuts, 
Promised them all sorts of heavenly pay — 
And greatly edified were they. 

Fauft. And Margery ? 

Mephiftopheles. Sits there in diflress, 
And what to do me cannot guess, 



FAUST. I39 

The jewels her daily and nightly thought, 
And he ftill more by whom they were brought. 

Fauft. My heart is troubled for my pet. 
Get her at once another set ! 
The firft were no great things in their way. 

Mephiftopheles. O yes, my gentleman finds all 
child's play ! 

Fauft. And what I wifh, that mind and do ! 
Stick closely to her neighbor, too. 
Don't be a devil soft as pap, 
And fetch me some new jewels, old chap! 

Mephiftopheles. Yes, gracious Sir, I will with 
pleasure. 

[Exit Faust. 

Such love-sick fools will puff away 

Sun, moon, and ftars, and all in the azure, 

To please a maiden's whimsies, any day. 

[Exit. 



I 



lilt 



FAUST. 



, THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE. 

Martha [alone]. 

My dear good man — whom God forgive ! 

He has not treated me well, as I live ! 

Right off into the world he's gone 

And left me on the ftraw alone. 

I never did vex him, I say it sincerely, 

I always loved him, God knows how dearly. 

\_She <weeps.~\ 

Perhaps he's dead ! — O cruel fate ! — 
If I only had a certificate ! 

Enter Margaret. 

Dame Martha ! 

Martha. What now, Margery ? 
Margaret. I scarce can keep my knees from 
sinking ! 

Within my press, again, not thinking, 
I find a box of ebony, 

With things — can't tell how grand they are, — 
More splendid than the firft by far. 

Martha. You muff not tell it to your mother, 
She'd serve it as me did the other. 

Margaret , Ah, only look ! Behold and see ! 

Martha [puts them on her]. Fortunate thing! I 
envy thee ! 



FAUST. 



I 4 I 



Margaret. Alas, in the ftreet or at church I never 
Could be seen on any account whatever. 

Martha. Come here as often as you've leisure, 
And prink yourself quite privately ; 
Before the looking-glass walk up and down at pleas- 
ure, 

Fine times for both us 'twill be ; 
Then, on occasions, say at some great feaft, 
Can mow them to the world, one at a time, at 
leaft. 

A chain, and then an ear-pearl comes to view ; 
Your mother may not see, we'll make some pretext, 
too. 

Margaret. Who could have brought both cafkets 
in succession ? 
There's something here for juft suspicion ! 

[A knock.'] 

Ah, God ! If that's my mother — then ! 

Martha [peeping through the blind]. 'Tis a ftrange 
gentleman — come in ! 

[Enter Mephistopheles.] 
Muft, ladies, on your kindness reckon 
To excuse the freedom I have taken ; 

[Steps back 'with profound respect at seeing Margaret.] 
I would for Dame Martha Schwerdtlein inquire! 
Martha. I'm me, what, sir, is your desire ? 
Mephiftopheles [aside to her]. I know your face, 
for now 'twill do j 
A diftinguifhed lady is visiting you. 



142 



FAUST. 



For a call so abrupt be pardon meted, 
This afternoon it mail be repeated. 

Martha [aloud']. For all the world, think, child ! 
my sakes ! 
The gentleman you for a lady takes. 

Margaret. Ah, God ! I am a poor young blood ; 
The gentleman is quite too good ; 
The jewels and trinkets are none of my own. 

Mephiftopheles. Ah, 'tis not the jewels and trinkets 
alone i 

Her look is so piercing, so diftingue ! 

How glad I am to be suffered to ftay. 

Martha. What bring you, sir ? I long to hear — 
Mephiftopheles. Would I'd a happier tale for your 
ear ! 

I hope you'll forgive me this one for repeating : 
Your husband is dead and sends you a greeting. 

Martha. Is dead ? the faithful heart ! Woe ! Woe ! 
My husband dead! I, too, mall go! 

Margaret. Ah, deareft Dame, despair not thou ! 

Mephiftopheles. Then, hear the mournful ftory 
now ! 

Margaret. Ah, keep me free from love forever, 
I mould never survive such a loss, no, never ! 

Mephiftopheles. Joy and woe, woe and joy, muft 

have each other. 
Martha. Describe his closing hours to me ! 
Mephiftopheles. In Padua lies our departed brother, 



FAUST. 



H3 



In the churchyard of St. Anthony, 
In a cool and quiet bed lies fleeping, 
In a sacred spot's eternal keeping. 

Martha. And this was all you had to bring me ? 

Mephiftopheles. All but one weighty, grave re- 
queft ! 

" Bid her, when I am dead, three hundred masses 
sing me!" 

With this I have made a clean pocket and breaft. 

Martha. What ! not a medal, pin nor ftone ? 
Such as, for memory's sake, no journeyman will lack, 
Saved in the bottom of his sack, 
And sooner would hunger, be a pauper — 

Mephiftopheles. Madam, your case is hard, I own ! 
But blame him not, he squandered ne'er a copper. 
He too bewailed his faults with penance sore, 
Ay, and his wretched luck bemoaned a great deal 
more. 

Margaret. Alas ! that mortals so unhappy prove ! 
I surely will for him pray many a requiem duly. 
Mephiftopheles. You're worthy of a spouse this 
moment j truly 
You are a child a man might love. 

Margaret. It's not yet time for that, ah no! 
Mephiftopheles. If not a husband, say, meanwhile 
a beau. 

It is a choice and heavenly blessing, 

Such a dear thing to one's bosom pressing. 



i 4 4 



FAUST. 



Margaret. With us the cuftom is not so. 
Mephiftopheles. Cuftom or not! It happens, 

though. 
Martha. Tell on ! 

Mephiftopheles. I flood beside his bed, as he lay 
dying, 

Better than dung it was somewhat, — 
Half-rotten flraw ; but then, he died as Chriftian 
ought, 

And found an unpaid score, on Heaven's account- 
book lying. 

" How muft I hate myself," he cried, " inhuman ! 
So to forsake my business and my woman ! 
Oh ! the remembrance murders me ! 
Would fhe might ftill forgive me this side heaven ! " 
Martha [weeping']. The dear good man! he has 

been long forgiven. 
Mephiftopheles. " But God knows, I was less to 

blame than me." 
Martha. A lie ! And at death's door ! abominable ! 
Mephiftopheles. If I to judge of men half-way am 
able, 

He surely fibbed while passing hence. 
" Ways to kill time, (he said) — be sure, I did not 
need them ; 

Firffc to get children — and then bread to feed them, 
And bread, too, in the wideft sense, 
And even to eat my bit in peace could not be thought 
on." 



FAUST. 



145 



Martha. Has he all faithfulness, all love, so far 
forgotten, 
The drudgery by day and night ! 

Mephiftopheles. Not so, he thought of them and 
you a sight. 
He said : " When I from Malta went away, 
For wife and children my warm prayers ascended ; 
And Heaven so far our cause befriended, 
Our fhip a Turkifh cruiser took one day, 
Which for the mighty Sultan bore a treasure. 
Then valor got its well-earned pay, 
And I too, who received but my juft measure, 
A goodly portion bore away." 

Martha. How ? Where ? And he has left it 

somewhere buried ? 
Mephiftopheles. Who knows which way by the 
four winds 'twas carried ? 
He chanced to take a pretty damsel's eye, 
As, a ftrange sailor, he through Naples jaunted ; 
All that fhe did for him so tenderly, 
E'en to his blessed end the poor man haunted. 

Martha. The scamp ! his children thus to plun- 
der ! 

And could not all his troubles sore 
Arreft his vile career, I wonder ? 

Mephiftopheles. But mark! his death wipes off 
the score. 

Were I in your "place now, good lady \ 
10 



146 



FAUST. 



One year I'd mourn him piously 

And look about, meanwhiles, for a new flame already. 

Martha. Ah, God ! another such as he 
I may not find with ease on this side heaven ! 
Few such kind fools as this dear spouse of mine. 
Only to roving he was too much given. 
And foreign women and foreign wine, 
And that accursed game of dice. 

Mephiftopheles. Mere trifles these ; you need not 
heed 'em, 
If he, on his part, not o'er-nice, 
Winked at, in you, an occasional freedom. 
I swear, on that condition, too, 
I would, myself, 'change rings with you ! 

Martha. The gentleman is pleased to jeft now ! 

Mephiftopheles [aside]. I see it's now high time I 
ftirred ! 

She'd take the very devil at his word. 

[To Margery.] 
How is it with your heart, my beft, now ? 
Margaret. What means the gentleman ? 
Mephiftopheles. [aside]. Thou innocent young 
heart ! 

[Aloud.] 

Ladies, farewell ! 

Margaret. Farewell ! 

Martha. But quick, before we part ! — 
I'd like some witness, vouching truly 



FAUST. 147 

Where, how and when my love died and was buried 
duly. 

I've always paid to order great attention, 
Would of his death read some newspaper mention. 
Mephiftopheles. Ay, my dear lady, in the mouths 
of two 

Good witnesses each word is true ; 

I've a friend, a fine fellow, who, when you desire, 

Will render on oath what you require. 

I'll bring him here. 

Martha. O pray, sir, do! 

Mephiftopheles. And this young lady '11 be there 
too ? 

Fine boy ! has travelled everywhere, 
And all politeness to the fair. 

Margaret. Before him fhame my face muft cover. 

Mephiftopheles. Before no king the wide world 
over ! 

Martha. Behind the house, in my garden, at 
leisure, 

We'll wait this eve the gentlemen's pleasure. 



148 



FAUST. 



STREET. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Fauft. How now ? What progress ? Will 9 t 
come right ? 

Mephiftopheles. Ha, bravo ? So you're all on fire ? 
Full soon you'll see whom you desire. 
In neighbor Martha's grounds we are to meet to- 
night. 

That woman's one of nature's picking 
For pandering and gipsy-tricking ! 

Fauft. So far, so good ! 

Mephiftopheles. But one thing we muft do. 

Fauft. Well, one good turn deserves another, 
true. 

Mephiftopheles. We simply make a solemn depo- 
sition 

That her lord's bones are laid in good condition 
In holy ground at Padua, hid from view. 

Fauji. That's wise ! But then we firft muft make 

the journey thither? 
Mephiftopheles. Sancta simplicitas ! no need of 
such to-do ; 
Juft swear, and afk not why or whether. 

Fauft. If that's the beft you have, the plan's not 
worth a feather. 



FAUST. 



I49 



Mephlftopheles. O holy man ! now that's juft you ! 
In all thy life haft never, to this hour, 
To give false witness taken pains ? 
Have you of God, the world, and all that it contains, 
Of man, and all that ftirs within his heart and brains, 
Not given definitions with great power, 
Unscrupulous breaft, unblufliing brow ? 
And if you search the matter clearly, 
Knew you as much thereof, to speak sincerely, 
As of Herr Schwerdtlein's death ? Confess it now ! 

Fauft. Thou always waft a sophift and a liar. 

Mephiftopheles. Ay, if one did not look a little 
nigher. 

For will you not, in honor, to-morrow 
Befool poor Margery to her sorrow, 
And all the oaths of true love borrow ? 

Fauft. And from the heart, too. 

Mephlftopheles. Well and fair ! 

Then there '11 be talk of truth unending, 
Of love o'ermaftering, all transcending — 
Will every word be heart-born there ? 

Fauft. Enough ! It will ! — If, for the passion 
That fills and thrills my being's frame, 
I find no name, no fit expression, 
Then, through the world, with all my senses, rang- 
ing, 

Seek what moft ftrongly speaks the unchanging, 
And call this glow, within me burning, 



150 



FAUST. 



Infinite — endless — endless yearning, 
Is that a devilifh lying game ? 

Mephiftopheles. I'm right, nathless ! 

Fauft. Now, hark to me — 

This once, I pray, and spare my lungs, old fellow — 
Whoever will be right, and has a tongue to bellow, 
Is sure to be. 

But come, enough of swaggering, let's be quit, 
For thou art right, because I muft submit. 



FAUST. 



GARDEN. 

Margaret on Faust's arm. Martha 'with Mephistopheles. 
[Promenading up and douon.~\ 

Margaret. The gentleman but makes me more 
confused 

With all his condescending goodness. 
Men who have travelled wide are used 
To bear with much from dread of rudeness ; 
I know too well, a man of so much mind 
In my poor talk can little pleasure find. 

Fauft. One look from thee, one word, delights 
me more 

Than this world's wisdom o'er and o'er. 

[Kisses her hand.~\ 

Margaret. Don't take that trouble, sir ! How 
could you bear to kiss it ? 
A hand so ugly, coarse, and rough ! 
How much I've had to do ! muft I confess it — 
Mother is more than close enough. 

[They pass on.~\ 

Martha. And you, sir, are you always travelling 
so? 

Mephiftopheles. Alas, that business forces us to 
do it ! 

With what regret from many a place we go, 
Though tenderer!: bonds may bind us to it! 



152 



FAUST. 



Martha. 'Twill do in youth's tumultuous maze 
To wander round the world, a careless rover ; 
But soon will come the evil days, 
And then, a lone dry ftick, on the grave's brink to 
hover, 

For that nobody ever prays. 

Mephiftopheles. The diftant prospect makes my 
reason. 

Martha. Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in 
season. 

\jfhey pass on.~\ 
Margaret. Yes, out of sight and out of mind ! 
Politeness you find no hard matter ; 
But you have friends in plenty, better 
Than I, more sensible, more refined. 

Fauft. Dear girl, what one calls sensible on 
earth, 

Is often vanity and nonsense. 

Margaret. How ? 

Fauft. Ah, that the pure and simple never know 
Aught of themselves and all their holy worth ! 
That meekness, lowliness, the higheft measure 
Of gifts by nature lavifhed, full and free — 

Margaret. One little moment, only, think of me, 
I mail to think of you have ample time and leisure. 

Fauft. You're, may be, much alone ? 

Margaret. Our household is but small, I own, 
And yet needs care, if truth were known. 



FAUST. 



J 53 



We have no maid ; so I attend to cooking, sweep- 
ing, 

Knit, sew, do every thing, in fact ; 

And mother, in all branches of housekeeping, 

Is so exact! 

Not that fhe need be tied so very closely down; 

We might ftand higher than some others, rather ; 

A nice eftate was left us by my father, 

A house and garden not far out of town. 

Yet, after all, my life runs pretty quiet ; 

My brother is a soldier, 

My little sifter's dead ; 

With the dear child indeed a wearing life I led ; 
And yet with all its plagues again would gladly try it, 
The child was such a pet. 

Faujl. An angel, if like thee ! 

Margaret. I reared her and me heartily loved 
me. 

She and my father never saw each other, 

He died before her birth, and mother 

Was given up, so low (he lay, 

But fhe, by flow degrees, recovered, day by day. 

Of course fhe now, long time so feeble, 

To nurse the poor little worm was unable, 

And so I reared it all alone, 

With milk and water ; 'twas my own. 

Upon my bosom all day long 

It smiled and sprawled and so grew ftrong. 



*54 



FAUST. 



Fauft. Ah! thou haft truly known joy's faireft 
flower. 

Margaret. But no less truly manv a heavy hour. 
The wee thing's cradle flood at night 
Close to my bed - s did the leaft thing awake her, 
My fleep took flight ; 

'Twas now to nurse her, now in bed to take her, 
Then, if fhe was not ftill, to rise, 
Walk up and down the room, and dance away her 
cries, 

And at the wafh-tub ftand, when morning ftreaked 
the fkies; 

Then came the marketing and kitchen-tending, 
Day in, day out, work never-ending. 
One cannot always, sir, good temper keep ; 
But then it sweetens food and sweetens fleep. 

{They pass on.~] 

Martha. But the poor women suffer, you muft 
own : 

A bachelor is hard of reformation. 

Mephiftopheles. Madam, it refts with such as you, 
alone, 

To help me mend my situation. 

Martha. Speak plainly, sir, has none your fancy 
taken ? 

Has none made out a tender flame to waken ? 

Mephiftopheles. The proverb says : A man's own 
hearth, 

And a brave wife, all gold and pearls are worth. 



FAUST. 



155 



Martha. I mean, has ne'er your heart been smit- 
ten flightly ? 

Mephiftopheles. I have, on every hand, been en- 
tertained politely. 

Martha. Have you not felt, I mean, a serious 
intention ? 

Mephiftopheles. Jetting with women, that's a thing 

one ne'er mould mention. 
Martha. Ah, you mis understand ! 
Mephiftopheles. It grieves me that I mould ! 
But this I underftand — that you are good. 

['They pass on.'] 

Fauft. So then, my little angel recognized me, 
As I came through the garden gate ? 

Margaret. Did not my downcaft eyes mow you 

surprised me ? 
Fauft. And thou forgav'ft that liberty, of late ? 
That impudence of mine, so daring, 
As thou waft home from church repairing? 

Margaret. I was confused, the like was new to 
me ; 

No one could say a word to my dishonor. 

Ah, thought I, has he, haply, in thy manner 

Seen any boldness — impropriety ? 

It seemed as if the feeling seized him, 

That he might treat this girl juft as it pleased him. 

Let me confess ! I knew not from what cause, 

Some flight relentings here began to threaten danger ; 



i 5 6 



FAUST. 



I know, right angry with myself I was, 
That I could not be angrier with the ftranger. 

Fauft. Sweet darling ! 

Margaret. Let me once ! 
[She plucks a china-aster and picks off the leaves one after an- 
other.] 

Fauft. What's that for ? A bouquet ? 
Margaret. No, juft for sport. 
Fauft. How ? 

Margaret. Go ! you'll laugh at me ; away ! 
\_She picks and murmurs to her self. ~\ 

Fauft. What murmureft thou ? 
Margaret {half aloud]. He loves me — loves me 
not. 

Fauft. Sweet face ! from heaven that look was 
caught ! 

Margaret [goes on~\. Loves me — not — loves me — 
not — 

[picking off the last leaf uoith tender joy] 
He loves me ! 

Fauft. Yes, my child ! And be this floral word 
An oracle to thee. He loves thee ! 
Knoweft thou all it means ? He loves thee ! 

[Clasping both her hands.] 

Margaret. What thrill is this ! 

Fauft. O, fhudder not ! This look of mine, 
This pressure of the hand mall tell thee 
What cannot be expressed : 



FAUST. 



157 



Give thyself up at once and feel a rapture, 
An ecftasy never to end ! 

Never !— It's end were nothing but blank despair. 
No, unending ! unending ! 

[Margaret presses his hands, extricates herself, and runs 
a-zvay. He stands a moment in thought, then folloivs her]. 

Martha [coming]. The night falls faft. 

Mephiftopheles. Ay, and we rauft away. 

Martha. If it were not for one vexation, 
I would insift upon your longer flay. 
Nobody seems to have no occupation, 
No care nor labor, 

Except to play the spy upon his neighbor ; 

And one becomes town-talk, do whatsoe'er they may. 

But where's our pair of doves ? 

Mephiftopheles. Flown up the alley yonder. 
Light summer-birds ! 

Martha. He seems attached to her. 

Mephiftopheles. No wonder. 
And me to him. So goes the world, they say. 



FAUST. 



A SUMMER-HOUSE. 

Margaret [darts in, hides behind the door, presses the tip of 
her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack]. 

Margaret. He comes! 

Enter Faust. 
Fauft. Ah rogue, how fly thou art ! 
I've caught thee ! 

[Kisses her.] 

Margaret [embracing him and returning the kiss]. 
Dear good man ! I love thee from my heart ! 
[Mephistopheles knocks.] 
Fauft [/tamping]. Who's there? 
Mephiftopheles. A friend! 
Fauft. A beaft ! 

Mephiftopheles. Time flies, I don't offend you? 
Martha [entering]. Yes, sir, 'tis growing late. 
Fauft. May I not now attend you ? 
Margaret. Mother would — Fare thee well ! 
Fauft. And muft I leave thee then ? 
Farewell ! 

Martha. ' Ade! 

Margaret. Till, soon, we meet again ! 

[Exeunt Faust and Mephistopheles. 

Margaret. Good heavens ! what such a man's one 
brain 



FAUST. 



Can in itself alone contain! 
I blufh my rudeness to confess, 
And answer all he says with yes. 
Am a poor, ignorant child, don't see 
What he can possibly find in me. 



i6o 



FAUST. 



WOODS AND CAVERN. 

Fauft [alone]. Spirit sublime, thou gav'ft me, 
gav'ft me all 
For which I prayed. Thou didft not lift in vain 
Thy face upon me in a flame of fire. 
Gav'fl me majeftic nature for a realm, 
The power to feel, enjoy her. Not alone 
A freezing, formal visit didft thou grant ; 
Deep down into her breaft invitedft me 
To look, as if me were a bosom-friend. 
The series of animated things 
Thou bidft pass by me, teaching me to know 
My brothers in the waters, woods, and air. 
And when the ftorm-swept foreft creaks and groans, 
The giant pine-tree crafhes, rending off 
The neighboring boughs and limbs, and with deep 
roar 

The thundering mountain echoes to its fall, 
To a safe cavern then thou leadeft me, 
Showft me myself ; and my own bosom's deep 
Myfterious wonders open on my view. 
And when before my sight the moon comes up 
With soft effulgence ; from the walls of rock, 
From the damp thicket, flowly float around 
The silvery fhadows of a world gone by, 
And temper meditation's fterner joy. 

O ! nothing perfect is vouchsafed to man : 



FAUST. 



161 



I feel it now ! Attendant on this bliss, 
Which brings me ever nearer to the Gods, 
Thou gav'ft me the companion, whom I now 
No more can spare, though cold and insolent ; 
He makes me hate, despise myself, and turns 
Thy gifts to nothing with a word — a breath. 
He kindles up a wild-fire in my breaft, 
Of reftless longing for that lovely form. 
Thus from desire I hurry to enjoyment, 
And in enjoyment languifh for desire. 

Enter Mephistopheles. 

Mephiftopheles. Will not this life have tired you 
by and bye ? 
I wonder it so long delights you ? 
'Tis well enough for once the thing to try ; 
Then ofF to where a new invites you ! 

Fauft. Would thou hadft something else to do, 
That thus to spoil my joy thou burneft. 

Mephiftopheles. Well ! well ! I'll leave thee, gladly 
too ! — 

Thou dar'ft not tell me that in earneft ! 
'Twere no great loss, a fellow such as you, 
So crazy, snappifh, and uncivil. 
One has, all day, his hands full, and more too ; 
To worm out from him what he'd have one do, 
Or not do, puzzles e'en the very devil. 

Fauft. Now, that I like ! That's juft the tone ! 
Wants thanks for boring me till I'm half dead! 
II 



162 



FAUST. 



Mephiftopheles. Poor son of earth, if left alone, 
What sort of life wouldft thou have led ? 
How oft, by methods all my own, 
I've chased the cobweb fancies from thy head ! 
And but for me, to parts unknown 
Thou from this earth hadft long since fled. 
What doft thou here through cave and crevice grop- 
ing ? 

Why like a horned owl sit moping ? 

And why from dripping stone, damp moss, and rotten 

wood 

Here, like a toad, suck in thy food? 

Delicious pastime ! Ah, I see, 

Somewhat of Doctor sticks to thee. 

Fauft. What new life-power it gives me, canst 
thou guess — 

This conversation with the wilderness ? 

Ay, couldst thou dream how sweet the employment, 

Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge me my en- 
joyment. 

Mephiftopheles. Ay, joy from super-earthly foun- 
tains ! 

By night and day to lie upon the mountains, 
To clasp in ecstasy both earth and heaven, 
Swelled to a deity by fancy's leaven, 
Pierce, like a nervous thrill, earth's very marrow, 
Feel the whole six days' work for thee too narrow, 
To enjoy, I know not what, in blest elation, 



FAUST. 



163 



Then with thy lavifh love o'erflow the whole crea- 
tion. 

Below thy sight the mortal cast, 

And to the glorious vision give at last — 

\yoith a gesture^ 
I must not say what termination ! 
Fauft. Shame on thee ! 

Mephiftopheles. This displeases thee ; well, surely, 
Thou haft a right to say "for fharne " demurely. 
One muft not mention that to chaste ears — never, 
Which chafte hearts cannot do without, however. 
And, in one word, I grudge you not the pleasure 
Of lying to yourself in moderate measure ; 
But 'twill not hold out long, I know ; 
Already thou art faft recoiling, 
And soon, at this rate, wilt be boiling 
With madness or despair and woe. 
Enough of this ! Thy sweetheart sits there lonely, 
And all to her is close and drear. 
Her thoughts are on thy image only, 
She holds thee, paft all utterance, dear. 
At firft thy passion came bounding and ruining 
Like a brooklet o'erflowing with melted snow and 
rain ; 

Into her heart thou haft poured it gufhing : 
And now thy brooklet's dry again. 
Methinks, thy woodland throne resigning, 
'Twould better suit so great a lord 



164 



FAUST. 



The poor young monkey to reward 
For all the love with which fhe's pining. 
She finds the time dismally long ; 
Stands at the window, sees the clouds on high 
Over the old town-wall go by. 
" Were I a little bird ! " 26 so runneth her song 
All the day, half the night long. 
At times me'll be laughing, seldom smile, 
At times wept-out fhe'll seem, 
Then again tranquil, you'd deem, — 
Lovesick all the while. 
Fauft. Viper ! Viper ! 

Mephiftopheles [aside]. Ay! and the prey grows 
riper ! 

Fauft. Reprobate ! take thee far behind me ! 
No more that lovely woman name ! 
Bid not desire for her sweet person flame 
Through each half-maddened sense, again to blind 
me ! 

Mephiftopheles. What then's to do ? She fancies 
thou haft flown, 
And more than half fhe's right, I own. 

Fauft. I'm near her, and, though far away, my 
word, 

Fd not forget her, lose her j never fear it ! 

I envy e'en the body of the Lord, 

Oft as those precious lips of hers draw near it. 



FAUST. 



Mephiftopheles. No doubt ; and oft my envious 
thought reposes 
On the twin-pair that feed among the roses. 
Fauft. Out, pimp ! 

Mephiftopheles. Well done ! Your jeers I find 

fair game for laughter. 
The God, who made both lad and lass, 
Unwilling for a bungling hand to pass, 
Made opportunity right after. 
But come ! fine cause for lamentation ! 
Her chamber is your deftination, 
And not the grave, I guess. 

Fauft. What are the joys of heaven while her 

fond arms enfold me ? 
O let her kindling bosom hold me ! 
Feel I not always her diftress ? 
The houseless am I not ? the unbefriended ? 
The monfter without aim or reft ? 
That, like a cataract, from rock to rock descended 
To the abyss, with maddening greed posseft : 
She, on its brink, with childlike thoughts and 

lowly, — 

Perched on the little Alpine field her cot,— 

This narrow world, so ftill and holy 

Ensphering, like a heaven, her lot. 

And I, God's hatred daring, 

Could not be content 

The rocks all headlong bearing, 



i66 



FAUST. 



By me to ruins rent, — 

Her, yea her peace, muft I o'erwhelm and bury ! 
This victim, hell, to thee was necessary ! 
Help me, thou fiend, the pang soon ending ! 
What muft be, let it quickly be ! 
And let her fate upon my head descending, 
Crum, at one blow, both her and me. 

Mephiftopheles. Ha! how it seethes again and 
glows ! 

Go in and comfort her, thou dunce ! 
Where such a dolt no outlet sees or knows, 
He thinks he's reached the end at once. 
None but the brave deserve the fair ! 
Thou haft had devil enough to make a decent mow 
of. 

For all the world a devil in despair 
Is juft the insipideft thing I know of. 



FAUST. 



MARGERY'S ROOM. 

Margery [at the spinning-ivheel alone]. 

My heart is heavy, 
My peace is o'er j 
I never — ah ! never — 
Shall find it more. 

While him I crave, 
Each place is the grave, 
The world is all 
Turned into gall. 

My wretched brain 
Has loft its wits, 
My wretched sense 
Is all in bits. 

My heart is heavy, 
My peace is o'er ; 
I never — ah! never — 
Shall find it more. 

Him only to greet, I 
The ftreet look down, 
Him only to meet, I 
Roam through town. 

His lofty ftep, 
His noble height, 
His smile of sweetness, 
His eye of might, 



FAUST. 



His words of magic, 
Breathing bliss, 
His hand's warm pressure 
And ah ! his kiss. 

My heart is heavy, 
My peace is o'er, 
I never — ah! never — 
Shall find it more. 

My bosom yearns 
To behold him again. 
Ah, could I find him 
That heft of men ! 
I'd tell him then 
How I did miss him, 
And kiss him „ 
As much as I could, 
To die on his kisses 
Would do me good ! 



FAUST. 



169 



MARTHA'S GARDEN. 

Margaret. Faust. 

Margaret. Promise me, Henry. 
Fauft. What I can. 

Margaret. How is it now with thy religion, say ? 
I know thou art a dear good man, 
But fear thy thoughts do not run much that way. 

Fauft. Leave that, my child ! Enough, thou haft 
my heart ; 

For those I love with life I'd freely part ; 

I would not harm a soul, nor of its faith bereave it. 

Margaret. That's wrong, there's one true faith — 
one muft: believe it ? 

Fauft. Muft one ? 

Margaret. Ah, could I influence thee, deareft ! 
The holy sacraments thou scarce revereft. 

Fauft. I honor them. 

Margaret. But yet without desire. 
Of mass and confession both thou 'ft long begun to 
tire. 

Believeft thou in God ? 

Fauft. My darling, who engages 
To say, I do believe in God ? 
The queftion put to priefts or sages : 
Their answer seems as if it sought 
To mock the afker. 



FAUST. 



Margaret. Then believ'ft thou not ? 

Fauft. Sweet face, do not misunderftand my 
thought ! 
Who dares express him ? 
And who confess him, 
Saying, I do believe ? 
A man's heart bearing, 
What man has the daring 
To say : I acknowledge him not ? 
The All-enfolder, 
The All-upholder, 
Enfolds, upholds He not 
Thee, me, Himself? 

Upsprings not Heaven's blue arch high o'er thee ? 

Underneath thee does not earth Hand faft ? 

See'ft thou not, nightly climbing, 

Tenderly glancing eternal flars ? 

Am I not gazing eye to eye on thee ? 

Through brain and bosom 

Throngs not all life to thee, 

Weaving in everlafting myftery 

Obscurely, clearly, on all sides of thee ? 

Fill with it, to its utmofl: ftretch, thy breaft, 

And in the consciousness when thou art wholly blcft, 

Then call it what thou wilt, 

Joy! Heart! Love! God! 

I have no name to give it ! 

All comes at laft to feeling ; 



FAUST. 171 

Name is but sound and smoke, 
Beclouding Heaven's warm glow. 

Margaret. That is all fine and good, I know ; 
And juft as the prieft has often spoke, 
Only with somewhat different phrases. 

Fauft. All hearts, too, in all places, 
Wherever Heaven pours down the day's broad bless- 
ings 

Each in its way the truth is confessing ; 
And why not I in mine, too ? 

Margaret. Well, all have a way that they incline 
to, 

But ftill there is something wrong with thee j 
Thou haft no Chriftianity. 

Fauft. Dear child ! 

Margaret. It long has troubled me 
That thou fhouldft keep such company. 

Fauft. How so ? 

Margaret. The man whom thou for crony hast, 
Is one whom I with all my soul detest. 
Nothing in all my life has ever 
Stirred up in my heart such a deep disfavor 
As the ugly face that man has got. 

Fauft. Sweet plaything ; fear him not ! 

Margaret. His presence stirs my blood, I own. 
I can love almost all men I've ever known ; 
But much as thy presence with pleasure thrills me, 
That man with a secret horror fills me. 



172 



FAUST. 



And then for a knave I've suspected him long ! 
God pardon me, if I do him wrong ! 

Fauft. To make up a world such odd sticks are 
needed. 

Margaret. Shouldn't like to live in the house 
where he did! 
Whenever I see him coming in, 
He always wears such a mocking grin, 
Half cold, half grim ; 

One sees, that naught has interest for him ; 

'Tis writ on his brow and can't be mistaken, 

No soul in him can love awaken. 

I feel in thy arms so happy, so free, 

I yield myself up so blissfully, 

He comes, and all in me is closed and frozen now. 

Fauft. Ah, thou mistrustful angel, thou ! 

Margaret. This weighs on me so sore, 
That when we meet, and he is by me, 
I feel, as if I loved thee now no more. 
Nor could I ever pray, if he were nigh me, 
That eats the very heart in me ; 
Henry, it must be so with thee. 

Fauft. 'Tis an antipathy of thine ! 

Margaret. Farewell ! 

Fauft. Ah, can I ne'er recline 
One little hour upon thy bosom, pressing 
My heart to thine and all my soul confessing ? 

Margaret. Ah, if my chamber were alone, 



FAUST. 



This night the bolt should give thee free admission ; 
But mother wakes at every tone, 
And if fhe had the least suspicion, 
Heavens ! I mould die upon the spot ! 

Fauft. Thou angel, need of that there's not. 
Here is a flafk ! Three drops alone 
Mix with her drink, and nature 
Into a deep and pleasant lleep is thrown. 

Margaret. Refuse thee, what can I, poor crea- 
ture ? 

I hope, of course, it will not harm her ! 

Fauft. Would I advise it then, my charmer ? 

Margaret. Best man, when thou dost look at me, 
I know not what, moves me to do thy will j 
I have already done so much for thee, 
Scarce any thing seems left me to fulfil. 

[Exit. 

Enter Mephistopheles. 

Mephiftopheles. The monkey ! is fhe gone ? 

Fauft. Hast played the spy again ? 

Mephiftopheles. I overheard it all quite fully. 
The Doctor has been well catechized then ? 
Hope it will sit well on him truly. 
The maidens won't rest till they know if the men 
Believe as good old custom bids them do. 
They think : if there he yields, he'll follow our will 
too. 

Fauft. r Monster, thou wilt not, canst not see, 



i74 



FAUST. 



How this true soul that loves so dearly, 
Yet hugs, at every cost, 
The faith which me 

Counts Heaven itself, is horror-struck sincerely 
To think of giving up her dearest man for lost. 

Mephiftopheles. Thou supersensual, sensual wooer, 
A girl by the nose is leading thee. 

Fauft. Abortion vile of fire and sewer ! 

Mephiftopheles. In physiognomy, too, her skill is 
masterly. 

When I am near fhe feels me knows not how, 
My little mafk some secret meaning mows ; 
She thinks, I'm certainly a genius, now, 
Perhaps the very devil — who knows ? 
To-night then ? — 

Fauft. Well, what's that to you ? 

Mephiftopheles. I find my pleasure in it, too ! 




FAUST. 



175 



AT THE WELL. 

Margery and Lizzy uoith Pitchers. 

Lizzy. Hast heard no news of Barbara to-day ? 
Margery. No, not a word. I've not been out 
much lately. 

Lizzy. It came to me through Sybill very 
straightly. 

She's made a fool of herself at last, they say. 
That comes of taking airs ! 

Margery. What meanst thou ? 

Lizzy. Pah ! 

She daily eats and drinks for two now. 

Margery. Ah ! 

Lizzy. It serves the jade right for being so cal- 
low. 

How long fhe's been hanging upon the fellow ! 
Such a promenading ! 
To fair and dance parading : 
Everywhere as first fhe must mine, 
He was treating her always with tarts and wine ; 
She began to think herself something fine, 
And let her vanity so degrade her 
That fhe even accepted the presents he made her. 
There was hugging and smacking, and so it went 
on — 

And lo ! and behold ! the flower is gone ! 



176 



FAUST. 



Margery Poor thing ! 

Lizzy. Canst any pity for her feel ! 
When such as we spun at the wheel, 
Our mothers kept us in-doors after dark ; 
While fhe stood cozy with her spark, 
Or sate on the door-bench, or sauntered round, 
And never an hour too long they found. 
But now her pride may let itself down, 
To do penance at church in the sinner's gown ! 

Margery. He'll certainly take her for his wife. 

Lizzy. He'd be a fool! A spruce young blade 
Has room enough to ply his trade. 
Besides, he's gone. 

Margery. Now, that's not fair ! 

Lizzy. If fhe gets him, her lot '11 be hard to bear. 
The boys will tear up her wreath, and what's more, 
We'll strew chopped straw before her door. 

[Exit. 

Margery [going home']. Time was when I, too, 
instead of bewailing, % 
Could boldly jeer at a poor girl's failing ! 
When my scorn could scarcely find expression 
At hearing of another's transgression ! 
How black it seemed! though black as could be, 
It never was black enough for me. 
I blessed my soul, and felt so high, 
And now, myself, in sin I lie ! 
Yet — all that led me to it, sure, 
O God ! it was so dear, so pure ! 



FAUST. 



I 77 



DONJON. 

[_In a niche a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa, before it 
pots of flo<wers.~\ 

Margery [puts fresh fouoers into the pots']. 
Ah, hear me. 
Draw kindly near me. 
Mother of sorrows, heal my woe ! 

Sword-pierced, and stricken 

With pangs that sicken, 

Thou seeft thy son's laft life-blood flow ! 

Thy look — thy sighing — 
To God are crying, 

Charged with a son's and mother's woe! 

Sad mother ! 
What oth€r 

Knows the pangs that eat me to the bone ? 
What within my poor heart burneth, 
How it trembleth, how it yearneth, 
Thou canst feel and thou alone ! 

Go where I will, I never 
Find peace or hope — forever 
Woe, woe and misery! 

12 



FAUST. 



Alone, when all are deeping, 
I'm weeping, weeping, weeping, 
My heart is cruflied in me. 

The pots before my window, 
In the early morning-hours, 
Alas, my tears bedewed them, 
As I plucked for thee these flowers, 

When the bright sun good morrow 
In at my window said, 
Already, in my anguifh, 
I sate there in my bed. 

From fhame and death redeem me, oh ! 

Draw near me, 

And, pitying, hear me, 

Mother of sorrows, heal my woe ! 



FAUST. 



179 



NIGHT. 

Street before Margery's Door. 
Valentine [soldier, Margery's brother]. 
When at the mess I used to sit, 
Where many a one will mow his wit, 
And heard my comrades one and all 
The flower of the sex extol, 
Drowning their praise with bumpers high, 
Leaning upon my elbows, I 
Would hear the braggadocios through, 
And then, when it came my turn, too, 
Would stroke my beard and, smiling, say, 
A brimming bumper in my hand : 
All very decent in their way ! 
But is there one, in all the land, 
With my sweet Margy to compare, 
A candle to hold to my sister fair ? 
Bravo ! Kling ! Klang ! it echoed round ! 
One party cried : 'tis truth he speaks, 
She is the jewel of the sex ! 
And the braggarts all in silence were bound. 
And now ! — one could pull out his hair with vexation, 
And run up the walls for mortification ! — 
Every two-legged creature that goes in breeches 
Can mock me with sneers and stinging speeches ! 
And I like a guilty debtor siting, 
For fear of each casual word am sweating ! 



i8o 



FAUST. 



And though I could smafh them in my ire, 
I dare not call a soul of them liar. 

What's that comes yonder, sneaking along ? 
There are two of them there, if I see not wrong. 
Is't he, I'll give him a dose that '11 cure him, 
He'll not leave the spot alive, I assure him! 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Fauft. How from yon window of the sacristy 
The ever-burning lamp sends up its glimmer, 
And round the edge grows ever dimmer, 
Till in the gloom its flickerings die ! 
So in my bosom all is nightlike. 

Mephiftopheles. A starving tom-cat I feel quite 
like, 

That o'er the fire ladders crawls 

Then softly creeps around the walls. 

My aim's quite virtuous ne'ertheless, 

A bit of thievifh lust, a bit of wantonness. 

I feel it all my members haunting — 

The glorious Walpurgis night. 

One day — then comes the feast enchanting 

That fhall all pinings well requite. 

Fauft. Meanwhile can that the calket be, I wonder, 
I see behind rise glittering yonder. 28 

Mephtftopheles. Yes, and thou soon fhalt have the 
pleasure 

Of lifting out the precious treasure. 



FAUST. 



181 



I lately 'neath the lid did squint, 
Has piles of lion-dollars 29 in't. 

Fauft. But not a jewel ? Not a ring ? 
To deck my mistress not a trinket ? 

Mephiftopheles. I caught a glimpse of some such 
thing, 

Sort of pearl bracelet I mould think it. 

Fauft. That's well ! I always like to bear 
Some present when I visit my fair. 

Mephiftopheles. You mould not murmur if your 
fate is, 

To have a bit of pleasure gratis. 

Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng, 

List a fine piece, artistic purely : 

I sing her here a moral song, 

To make a fool of her more surely. 

[Sings to the guitar, ,] 30 

What dost thou here, 

Katrina dear, 

At daybreak drear, 

Before thy lover's chamber ? 

Give o'er, give o'er! 

The maid his door 

Lets in, no more 

Goes out a maid — remember ! 

Take heed ! take heed ! 
Once done, the deed 



182 



FAUST. 



Ye'U rue with speed — 

And then — good night — poor thing — a! 

Though ne'er so fair 

His speech, beware, 

Until you bear 

His ring upon your ringer. 
Valentine [co?nes forward]. Whom lur'ft thou 

here ? what prey dost scent ? 
Rat-catching 31 offspring of perdition ! 
To hell goes first the instrument ! 
To hell then follows the musician! 

Mephiftopheles. He 's broken the guitar ! to music, 

then, good-bye, now. 
Valentine. A game of cracking ltulls we'll try 

now ! 

Mephiftopheles [to Faufl\ Never you flinch, Sir 
Dodor! Brifk! 
Mind every word I say — be wary ! 
Stand close by me, out with your whilk ! 
Thruft home upon the churl ! I'll parry. 

Valentine. Then parry that ! 

Mephiftopheles. Be sure. Why not ? 

Valentine. And that ! 

Mephiftopheles. With ease ! 

Valentine. The devil's aid he's got ! 
But what is this ? My hand's already lame. 

Mephiftopheles [to Faujf], Thruft home! 

Valentine [falls], O woe! 



FAUST. 183 

Mephiftopheles. Now is the lubber tame ! 
But come ! We muft be off. I hear a clatter ; 
And cries of murder, too, that faft increase. 
I'm an old hand to manage the police, 
But then the penal court's another matter. 

Martha. Come out! Come out! 

Margery [at the window]. Bring on a light! 

Martha [as above]. They swear and scuffle, scream 
and fight. 

People. There's one, has got 's death-blow ! 

Martha [coming out]. Where are the murderers, 
have they flown ? 

Margery [coming out]. Who's lying here ? 

People. Thy mother's son. 

Margery. Almighty God ! What woe ! 

Valentine. I'm dying ! that is quickly said, 
And even quicklier done. 
Women ! Why howl, as if half-dead ? 
Come, hear me, every one ! 

[All gather round him.] 

My Margery, look! Young art thou ftill, 
But manager!, thy matters ill, 
Haft not learned out yet quite. 
I say in confidence — think it o'er : 
Thou art juft once for all a whore ; 
Why, be one, then, outright. 

Margery. My brother ! God ! What words to 
me ! 



FAUST. 



Valentine. In this game let our Lord God be! 
That which is done, alas ! is done. 
And every thing its course will run. 
With one you secretly begin, 
Presently more of them come in, 
And when a dozen fhare in thee, 
Thou art the whole town's property. 

When mame is born to this world of sorrow, 
The birth is carefully hid from sight, 
And the myfterious veil of night 
To cover her head they borrow ; 
Yes, they would gladly ftifle the wearer ; 
But as fhe grows and holds herself high, 
She walks uncovered in day's broad eye, 
Though fhe has not become a whit fairer. 
The uglier her face to sight, 
The more fhe courts the noonday light. 

Already I the time can see 
When all good souls shall fhrink from thee, 
Thou proftitute, when thou go'ft by them, 
As if a tainted corpse were nigh them. 
Thy heart within thy breaft mail quake then, 
When they look thee in the face. 
Shalt wear no gold chain more on thy neck then ! 
Shalt ftand no more in the holy place ! 
No pleasure in point-lace collars take then. 



FAUST. 



185 



Nor for the dance thy person deck then ! 

But into some dark corner gliding, 

'Mong beggars and cripples wilt be hiding ; 

And even ftiould God thy sin forgive, 

Wilt be curs'd on earth while thou malt live! 

Martha. Your soul to the mercy of God sur- 
render ! 

Will you add to your load the sin of flander ? 

Valentine. Could I get at thy dried-up frame, 
Vile bawd, so loft to all sense of mame ! 
Then might I hope, e'en this side Heaven, 
Richly to find my sins forgiven. 

Margery. My brother ! This is hell to me ! 

Valentine. I tell thee, let these weak tears be! 
When thy laft hold of honor broke, 
Thou gav'ft my heart the heavier!: ftroke. 
I'm going home now through the grave 
To God, a soldier and a brave. 

[Dies. 



i86 



FAUST. 



CATHEDRAL. 

Service, Organ, and Singing. 

[Margery amidst a cronvd of people. Evil Spirit behind 
Margery.] 

Evil Spirit. How different was it with thee, 
Margy, 
When, innocent and artless, 
Thou cam'ft here to the altar, 
From the well-thumbed little prayer-book, 
Petitions lisping, 
Half full of child's play, 
Half full of Heaven! 
Margy ! 

Where are thy thoughts ? 

What crime is buried 

Deep within thy heart ? 

Prayeft thou haply for thy mother, who 

Slept over into long, long pain, on thy account ? 

Whose blood upon thy threfhold lies ? 

— And ftirs there not already 

Beneath thy heart a life 

Tormenting itself and thee 

With bodings of its coming hour ? 

Margery. Woe ! Woe I 
Could I rid me of the thoughts, 

Still through my brain backward and forward flitting, 
Again ft my will ! 



FAUST. 



187 



Chorus. Dies irae, dies ilia 
Solvet saeclum in favilla. 

[Organ plays.] 

Evil Spirit. Wrath smites thee ! 
Hark ! the trumpet sounds ! 
The graves are trembling! 
And thy heart. 
Made o'er again 
For fiery torments, 
Waking from its afhes 
Starts up! 

Margery. Would I were hence ! 
I feel as if the organ's peal 
My breath were ftifling, 
The choral chant 
My heart were melting. 

Chorus. Judex ergo cum sedebit, 
Quidquid latet apparebit. 
Nil inultum remanebit. 

Margery. How cramped it feels ! 
The walls and pillars 
Imprison me! 
And the arches 
Crufh me!— Air! 

Evil Spirit. What ! hide thee ! sin and ftiame 
Will not be hidden ! 
Air ? Light ? 
Woe's thee ! 



i88 



FAUST. 



Chorus. Quid sum miser tunc diclurus ? 
Quern patronum rogaturus ? 
Cum vix juftus sit securus. 

Evil Spirit. They turn their faces, 
The glorified, from thee. 
To take thy hand, the pure ones 
Shudder with horror. 
Woe ! 

Chorus. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 
Margery. Neighbor ! your phial ! — 

[She swoons. 



FAUST. 



WALPURGIS NIGHT. 

Harz Mountains. 
District of Schirke and Elend. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Mephiftopheles. Wouldft thou not like a broom- 
ftick, now, to ride on ? 
At this rate we are, ftill, a long way off ; 
Fd rather have a good tough goat, by half, 
Than the beft legs a man e'er set his pride on. 

Fauft. So long as I've a pair of good frefh legs 
to ftride on, 
Enough for me this knotty ftaff. 
What use of fhortening the way ! 
Following the valley's labyrinthine winding, 
Then up this rock a pathway finding, 
From which the spring leaps down in bubbling play, 
That is what spices such a walk, I say ! 
Spring through the birch-tree's veins is flowing, 
The very pine is feeling it ; 

Should not its influence set our limbs a-glowing ? 

Mephiftopheles. I do not feel it, not a bit ! 
My wintry blood runs very flowly ; 
I wifh my path were filled with froft and snow. 
The moon's imperfect difk, how melancholy 
It rises there with red, belated glow, 
And mines so badly that, where'er one can turn, 



I9O FAUST. 

At every ftep he hits a rock or tree! 
With leave I'll beg a Jack-o'lantern ! 
I see one yonder burning merrily. 
Heigh, there ! my friend! May I thy aid desire ? 
Why wafte at such a rate thy fire ? 
Come, light us up yon path, good fellow, pray ! 
J 'a ck-o 'lantern. Out of respect, I hope I mall be 
able 

To rein a nature quite unftable ; 
We usually take a zigzag way. 

Mephiftopheles. Heigh ! heigh ! He thinks man's 

crooked course to travel. 
Go ftraight ahead, or, by the devil, 
I'll blow your flickering life out with a pufF. 

Jack-o'lantern. You're mafter of the house, that's 

plain enough, 
So I'll comply with your desire. 
But see ! The mountain's magic-mad to-night, 
And if your guide's to be a Jack-o'lantern's light, 
Stricl: rectitude you'll scarce require. 
Faust, Mephistopheles, Jack-o'Lantern, in alternate song. 
Spheres of magic, dream, and vision, 

Now, it seems, are opening o'er us. 

For thy credit, use precision ! 

Let the way be plain before us 

Through the lengthening desert regions. 
See how trees on trees, in legions, 

Hurrying by us, change their places, 



FAUST. 



I 9 I 



And the bowing crags make faces, 
And the rocks, long noses mowing, 
Hear them snoring, hear them blowing ! 33 
Down through ftones, through mosses flow- 
ing? 

See the brook and brooklet springing. 
Hear I ruftling ? hear I singing ? 
Love-plaints, sweet and melancholy, 
Voices of those days so holy ? 
All our loving, longing, yearning ? 
Echo, like a ftrain returning 
From the olden times, is ringing. 

Uhu ! Schuhu ! Tu-whit ! Tu-whit ! 
Are the jay, and owl, and pewit 
All awake and loudly calling ? 
What goes through the bufhes yonder? 
Can it be the Salamander — 
Belly thick and legs a-sprawling ? 
Roots and fibres, snake-like, crawling, 
Out from rocky, sandy places, 
Wheresoe'er we turn our faces, 
Stretch enormous fingers round us, 
Here to catch us, there confound us ; 
Thick, black knars to life are ftarting, 
Polypusses'-feelers darting 
At the traveller. Field-mice, swarming, 
Thousand-colored armies forming, 
Scamper on through moss and heather! 



ig2 FAUST. 

And the glow-worms, in the darkling, 
With their crowded escort sparkling, 
Would confound us altogether. 

But to guess I'm vainly trying — 
Are we flopping ? are we hieing ? 
Round and round us all seems flying, 
Rocks and trees, that make grimaces, 
And the mift-lights of the places 
Ever swelling, multiplying. 
Mephiftopheles. Here's my coat-tail — tightly thumb 
it! 

We have reached a middle summit, 
Whence one flares to see how mines 
Mammon in the mountain-mines. 

Fauft. How ftrangely through the dim recesses 
A dreary dawning se^ms to glow! 
And even down the deep abysses 
Its melancholy quiverings throw ! 
Here smoke is boiling, mift exhaling 5 
Here from a vapory veil it gleams, 
Then, a fine thread of light, goes trailing, 
Then gufhes up in fiery flreams. 
The valley, here, you see it follow, 
One mighty flood, with hundred rills, 
And here, pent up in some deep hollow, 
It breaks on all sides down the hills. 
Here, spark-fhowers, darting up before us, 
Like golden sand-clouds rise and fall. 



FAUST. 



*93 



But yonder see how blazes o'er us, 
All up and down, the rocky wall ! 

Mephiftopheles. Has not Sir Mammon gloriously 
lighted 

His palace for this feftive night ? 

Count thyself lucky for the sight : 

I catch e'en now a glimpse of noisy guefts invited. 

Fauft. How the mad temper! 34 sweeps the air ! 
On cheek and neck the wind-gufts how they flout me ! 

Mephiftopheles. Muft seize the rock's old ribs and 
hold on ftoutly ! 
Else will they hurl thee down the dark abysses there. 
A mift-rain thickens the gloom. 
Hark, how the forefts cram and boom ! 
Out fly the owls in dread and wonder ; 
Splitting their columns asunder, 
Hear it, the evergreen palaces making ! 
Boughs are twilling and breaking ! 
Of ftems what a grinding and moaning ! 
Of roots what a creaking and groaning ! 
In frightful confusion, headlong tumbling, 
They fall, with a sound of thunder rumbling, 
And, through the wreck-piled ravines and abysses, 
The tempefr. howls and hisses. 
Hearft thou voices high up o'er us ? 
Close around us — far before us ? 
Through the mountain, all along, 
Swells a torrent of magic song. 

J 3 



194 



FAUST. 



Witches [in chorus']. The witches go to the 
Brocken's top, 
The ftubble is yellow, and green the crop. 
They gather there at the well-known call, 
Sir Urian 35 sits at the head of all. 
Then on we go o'er ftone and flock : 
The witch, fhe — and — the buck. 
Voice. Old Baubo comes along, I vow! 
She rides upon a farrow-sow. 

Chorus. Then honor to whom honor's due ! 
Ma'am Baubo ahead ! and lead the crew ! 
A good fat sow, and ma'am on her back, 
Then follow the witches all in a pack. 
Voice. Which way didfl thou come ? 
Voice. By the Ilsenflein ! 

Peeped into at: owl's nefl, mother of mine ! 
Wha: - . pair of eyes I 

Voice. To hell with your flurry ! 
Why ride in such hurry ! 

Voice. The hag be confounded! 
My fkin fhe has wounded ! 

Witches [chorus]. The way is broad, the way is 
long, 

What means this noisy, crazy throng ? 
The broom it scratches, the fork it flicks, 
The child is {lined, the mother breaks. 
Wizards [semi-chorus]. Like housed-up snails 
we're creeping on, 



FAUST. 



*95 



The women all ahead are gone. 
When to the Bad One's house we go, 
She gains a thousand fteps, you know. 

The other half. We take it not precisely so ; 
What me in thousand fteps can go, 
Make all the hafte me ever can, 
'Tis done in juft one leap by man. 

Voice [above']. Come on, come on, from Felsensee ! 

Voices [from below]. We'd gladly join your airy 
way. 

For warn and clean us as much as we will, 
We always prove unfruitful ftill. 

Both chorusses. The wind is hufhed, the ftar 
moots by, 
The moon me hides her sickly eye. 
The whirling, whizzing magic-choir 
Darts forth ten thousand sparks of fire. 
Voice [from below']. Ho, there ! whoa, there ! 
Voice [from above]. Who calls from the rocky 

cleft below there? 
Voice [below]. Take me too ! take me too! 
Three hundred years Fve climbed to you, 
Seeking in vain my mates to come at, 
For I can never reach the summit. 

Both chorusses. Can ride the besom, the ftick can 
ride, 

Can ftride the pitchfork, the goat can ftride ; 
Who neither will ride to-night, nor can, 
Muft be forever a ruined man. 



196 



FAUST. 



Half-witch [below], I hobble on — Pm out of 
wind — 

And ftill they leave me far behind! 
To find peace here in vain I come, 
I get no more than I left at home. 

Chorus of witches. The witch's salve can never 
fail, 

A rag will answer for a sail, 
Any trough will do for a fhip, that's tight ; 
He'll never fly who flies not to-night. 
Both chorusses. And when the higheft peak we 
round, 

Then lightly graze along the ground, 
And cover the heath, where eye can see, 
With the flower of witch-errantry. 

\_They alight.] 

Mephiftopheles. What squeezing and pufhing, what 
milling arid huftlmg! 
What hissing and twirling, what chattering and butt- 
ling! 

How it fhines and sparkles and burns and itinks ! 
A true witch-element, methinks ! 
Keep close ! or we are parted in two winks. 
Where art thou ? 

Fauft [in the diftance]. Here! 

Mephiftopheles. What ! carried off" already '! 
Then I muft use my house-right. — Steady ! 
Room! Squire Voland 36 comes. Sweet people, 
Clear the ground ! 



FAUST. 



197 



Here, Doctor, grasp my arm ! and, at a single bound, 
Let us escape, while yet 'tis easy \ 
E'en for the like of me they're far too crazy. 
See ! yonder, something mines with quite peculiar 
glare, 

And draws me to those bumes mazy. 
Come! come ! and let us flip in there. 

Faufl. All-contradi (Sting sprite! To follow thee 
I'm fated. 

But I muft say, thy plan was very bright ! 

We seek the Brocken here, on the Walpurgis night, 

Then hold ourselves, when here, completely isolated ! 

Mephiftopheles. What motley flames light up the 
heather ! 
A merry club is met together, 
In a small group one's not alone. 

Fauft. I'd rather be up there, I own ! 
See ! curling smoke and flames right b)ue ! 
To see the Evil One they travel ; 
There many a riddle to unravel. 

Mephiftopheles. And tie up many another, too. 
Let the great world there rave and riot, 
We here will house ourselves in quiet. 
The saying has been long well known : 
In the great world one makes a small one of his own. 
I see young witches there quite naked all, 
And. old ones who, more prudent, cover. 
Eor my sake some flight things look over ; 



198 



FAUST. 



The fun is great, the trouble small. 
I hear them tuning inftruments ! Curs'd jangle ! 
Well! one mufr. learn with such things not to 
wrangle. 

Come on ! Come on ! For so it needs must be, 
Thou malt at once be introduced by me. 
And I new thanks from thee be earning. 
That is no scanty space ; what sayft thou, friend ? 
Juft take a look ! thou scarce canft see the end. 
There, in a row, a hundred fires are burning ; 
They dance, chat, cook, drink, love ; where can be 
found 

Any thing better, now, the wide world round ? 
Fauft. Wilt thou, as things are now in this con- 
dition, 

Present thyself for devil, or magician ? 

Mephiftopheles. I've been much used, indeed, to 

going incognito ; 
But then, on gala-day, one will his order mow. 
No garter makes my rank appear, 
But then the cloven foot Hands high in honor here. 
Seeft thou the snail ? Look there ! where me comes 

creeping yonder ! 
Had me already smelt the rat, 
I mould not very greatly wonder. 
Disguise is useless now, depend on that. 
Come, then ! we will from fire to fire wander, 
Thou malt the wooer be and I the pander. 



FAUST. 



I 99 



[To a party ivho sit round expiring ember s.~\ 
Old gentlemen, you scarce can hear the fiddle ! 
You'd gain more praise from me, ensconced there in 

the middle, 
'Mongft that young rousing, tousing set. 
One can, at home, enough retirement get. 

General. Truft not the people's fickle favor ! 
However much thou mayft for them have done. 
Nations, as well as women, ever, 
Worfhip the rising, not the setting sun. 
Minifter. From the right path we've drifted far 
away, 

The good old paft my heart engages ; 
Those were the real golden ages, 
When such as we held all the sway. 

Parvenu. We were no simpletons, I trow, 
And often did the thing we mould not ; 
But all is turning topsy-turvy now, 
And if we tried to ftem the wave, we could not. 

Author. Who on the whole will read a work to- 
day, 

Of moderate sense, with any pleasure ? 
And as regards the dear young people, they 
Pert and precocious are beyond all measure. 
Mephiftopheles [who all at once appears very old]. 
The race is ripened for the judgment day : 
So I, for the laft time, climb the witch-mountain, 
thinking, 



200 



FAUST. 



And, as my cafk runs thick, I say, 
The world, too, on its lees is sinking. 

Witch-broker. Good gentlemen, don't hurry by ! 
The opportunity's a rare one ! 
My ftock is an uncommon fair one, 
Please give it an attentive eye. 
There's nothing in my mop, whatever, 
But on the earth its mate is found \ 
That has not proved itself right clever 
To deal mankind some fatal wound. 
No dagger here, but blood has some time flamed 
it; 

No cup, that has not held some hot and poisonous 
juice, 

And ftung to death the throat that drained it ; 
No trinket, but did once a maid seduce ; 
No sword, but hath some tie of sacred honor riven, 
Or haply from behind through foeman's neck been 
driven. 

Mephiftopheles. You're quite behind the times, I 
tell you, Aunty ! 
By-gones be by-gones ! done is done ! 
Get us up something new and jaunty ! 
For new things now the people run. 

Fauji. To keep my wits I mufT. endeavor ! 
Call this a fair! I swear, I never — ! 

Mephiftopheles. Upward the billowy mass is mov- 
ing j 



FAUST. 



201 



You're moved along and think, meanwhile, you're 
moving. 

Fauft. What woman's that ? 

Mepbiftopheles. Mark her attentively. 
That's Lilith. 3 ? 

Fauft. Who ? 

Mepbiftopheles. Adam's nrft wife is me. 
Beware of her one charm, those lovely tresses, 
In which me mines preeminently fair. 
When those soft mefhes once a young man snare, 
How hard 'twill be to escape he little guesses. 

Fauft. There sit an old one and a young to- 
gether ' } 

They've flapped it well along the heather ! 

Mepbiftopheles. No reft from that till night is 
through. 

Another dance is up ; come on ! let us fall to. 

Fauft [dancing with the young one']. A lovely 
dream once came to me ; 

In it I saw an apple-tree ; 

Two beauteous apples beckoned there, 

I climbed to pluck the fruit so fair. 
The Fair one. Apples you greatly seem to prize, 

And did so even in Paradise. 

I feel myself delighted much 

That in my garden I have such. 
Mepbiftopheles [with the old bag]. A dismal dream 

once came to me ; 



202 



FAUST. 



In it I saw a cloven tree, 

It had a but ftill, 

I looked on it with right good-will. 
The Hag. With beft respect I here salute 
The noble knight of the cloven foot ! 

Let him hold a near, 

If a he does not fear. 

ProcJophantasmi/?. 38 What's this ye undertake? 
Confounded crew ! 
Have we not giv'n you demonstration ? 
No spirit ftands on legs in all creation, 
And here you dance juft as we mortals do! 

The Fair one [dancing]. What does that fellow 
at our ball ? 

Fauft [dancing']. Eh ! he muft have a hand in 
all. 

What others dance that he appraises. 
Unless each ftep he criticizes, 
The ftep as good as no ftep he will call. 
But when we move ahead, that plagues him more 
than all. 

If in a circle you would ftill keep turning, 
As he himself in his old mill goes round, 
He would be sure to call that sound! 
And moft so, if you went by his superior learning. 
Proclophantasmift. What, and you ftill are here ! 
Unheard off obftinates ! 
Begone ! We've cleared it up ! You mallow pates ! 



FAUST. 



203 



The devilifh pack from rules deliverance boafts. 
We've grown so wise, and Tegel 39 ftill sees ghofts. 
How long I've toiled to sweep these cobwebs from 
the brain, 

And yet — unheard of folly ! all in vain. 

The Fair one. And yet on us the ftupid bore ft ill 
tries it ! 

Proftophantasmift. I tell you spirits, to the face, 
I give to spirit-tyranny no place, 
My spirit cannot exercise it. 

[They dance on.~] 
I can't succeed to-day, I know it ; 
Still, there's the journey, which I like to make, 
And hope, before the final ftep I take, 
To rid the world of devil and of poet. 

Mephiftopheles. You'll see him fhortly sit into a 
puddle, 

In that way his heart is reassured ; 

When on his rump the leeches well mall fuddle, 

Of spirits and of spirit he'll be cured. 

[To Faust, ivho has left the dance.~] 
Why let the lovely girl flip through thy fingers, 
Who to thy dance so sweetly sang ? 

Fauft. Ah, right amidft her singing, sprang 
A wee red mouse from her mouth and made me 
cower. 

Mephiftopheles. That's nothing wrong! You're 
in a dainty way ; 



204 



FAUST. 



Enough, the mouse at leaft wan't gray. 

Who minds such thing in happy amorous hour ? 

Fauft. Then saw I — 

Mephiftopheles. What ? 

Fauft. Mephifto, seeft thou not 
Yon pale, fair child afar, who ftands so sad and 
lonely, 

And moves so flowly from the spot, 

Her feet seem locked, and me drags them only. 

I muft confess, me seems to me 

To look like my own good Margery. 

Mephiftopheles. Leave that alone ! The sight no 
health can bring. 
It is a magic fhape, an idol, no live thing. 
To meet it never can be good ! 
Its haggard look congeals a mortal's blood, 
And almoft turns him into ftone ; 
The ftory of Medusa thou haft known. 

Fauft. Yes, 'tis a dead one's eyes that ftare upon 
me, 

Eyes that no loving hand e'er closed ; 
That is the angel form of her who won me, 
'Tis the dear breaft on which I once reposed. 

Mephiftopheles. 'Tis sorcery all, thou fool, misled 
by passion's dreams ! 
For fhe to every one his own love seems. 

Fauft. What bliss! what woe! Methinks I 
never 



FAUST. 



205 



My sight from that sweet form can sever. 
Seeft thou, not thicker than a knife-blade's back, 
A small red ribbon, fitting sweetly 
The lovely neck it clasps so neatly ? 

Mephiftopheles. I see the ftreak around her neck. 
Her head beneath her arm, you'll next behold her ; 
Perseus has lopped it from her moulder, — 
But let thy crazy passion reft! 
Come, climb with me yon hillock's breaft, 
Was e'er the Prater 40 merrier then ? 
And if no sorcerer's charm is o'er me, 
That is a theatre before me. 
What's doing there ? 

Servibilis. They'll ftraight begin again. 
A bran-new piece, the very laft of seven ; 
To have so much, the fashion here thinks fit. 
By Dilettantes it is given ; 
'Twas by a Dilettante writ. 
Excuse me, sirs, 1 go to greet you ; 
I am the curtain-raising Dilettant. 

Mephiftopheles. When I upon the Blocksberg 
meet you, 

That I approve ; for there's your place, I grant. 




206 



FAUST. 



Walpurgis-night's dream, or oberon and 
titania's golden nuptials. 

Intermezzo. 

Theatre manager. Here, for once, we reft, to-day, 
Heirs of Mieding's 41 glory. 
All the scenery we display — 
Damp vale and mountain hoary ! 

Herald. To make the wedding a golden one, 
Mull: fifty years expire ; 
But when once the ftrife is done, 
I prize the gold the higher. 

Oberon. Spirits, if my good ye mean, 
Now let all wrongs be righted ; 
For to-day your king and queen 
Are once again united. 

Puck. Once let Puck coming whirling round, 
And set his foot to whifking, 
Hundreds with him throng the ground, 
Frolicking and frifking. 

Ariel. Ariel awakes the song 
With many a heavenly measure ; 
Fools not few he draws along, 
But fair ones hear with pleasure. 

Oberon. Spouses who your feuds would smother, 
Take from us a moral ! 



FAUST. 



207 



Two who wish to love each other, 
Need only firft to quarrel. 

Titania. If she pouts and he looks grim. 
Take them both together, 
To the north pole carry him, 
And off with her to t'other. 

Orchestra Tutti. 

Fortissimo. Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, these, 
And kin in all conditions, 
Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, 
We take for our musicians ! 

Solo. See, the Bagpipe comes ! fall back ! 
Soap-bubble's name he owneth. 
How the Schnecke-fchnicke-fcbnack 
Through his snub-nose droneth ! 

Spirit that is juji Jhaping itself. Spider-foot, toad's- 
belly, too, 
Give the child, and winglet ! 
'Tis no animalcule, true, 
But a poetic thinglet. 

A pair of lovers. Little ftep and lofty bound 
Through honey-dew and flowers ; 
Well thou trippeft o'er the ground, 
But soarft not o'er the bowers. 

Curious traveller. This muft be masquerade! 
How odd ! 
My very eyes believe I ? 
Oberon, the beauteous God 
Here, to-night perceive I ! 



208 



FAUST. 



Orthodox. Neither claws, nor tail I see ! 
And yet, without a cavil, 
Juft as " the Gods of Greece " 42 were, he 
Muft also be a devil. 

Northern artift. What here I catch is, to be sure, 
But fketchy recreation j 
And yet for my Italian tour 
'Tis timely preparation. 

Purifl. Bad luck has brought me here, I see ! 
The rioting grows louder. 
And of the whole witch company, 
There are but two, wear powder. 

Young witch. Powder becomes, like petticoat, 
Your little, gray old woman : 
Naked I sit upon my goat, 
And mow the untrimmed human. 

Matron. To ftand here jawing 43 with you, we 
Too much good-breeding cherim ; 
But young and tender though you be, 
I hope you'll rot and perifh. 

Leader of the music. Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, 
please, 

Swarm not so round the naked ! 
Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, 
Keep time and don't forsake it! 

Weathercock [towards one side]. Find better com- 
pany, who can ! 
Here, brides attended duly ! 



FAUST. 



209 



There, bachelors, ranged man by man, 
Moft hopeful people truly ! 

Weathercock [towards the other side]. And if the 
ground don't open ftraight, 
The crazy crew to swallow, 
You'll see me, at a furious rate, 
Jump down to hell's black hollow. 

Xenial We are here as insects, ah ! 
Small, fharp nippers wielding, 
Satan, as our cher papa^ 
Worthy honor yielding. 

Hennings. See how naively, there, the throng 
Among themselves are jefting, 
You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long, 
Their good kind hearts protefting. 

Musagetes. Apollo in this witches' group 
Himself right gladly loses ; 
For truly I could lead this troop 
Much easier than the muses. 

Ci-devant genius of the age. Right company will 
raise man up. 
Come, grasp my fkirt, Lord bless us ! 
The Blocksberg has a good broad top, 
Like Germany's Parnassus. 

Curious traveller. Tell me who is that stiff man ? 
With what stiff step he travels ! 
He noses out whate'er he can. 
" He scents the Jesuit devils." 
14 



210 



FAUST. 



Crane. In clear, and muddy water, too, 
The long-billed gentleman fifties ; 
Our pious gentlemen we view 
Fingering in devils' difhes. 

Child of this world. Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis 
clear, 

"All's grist that comes to their mill j " 
They build their tabernacles here, 
On Blocksberg, as on Carmel. 

Dancer. Hark ! a new choir salutes my ear ! 
I hear a distant drumming. 
" Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear 
The one-toned bitterns bumming." 

Dancing-mafter. How each his legs kicks up and 
flings, 

Pulls foot as best he's able ! 

The clumsy hops, the crooked springs, 

'Tis quite disreputable! 

Fiddler. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear, 
Like cats and dogs, each other. 
Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here 
Binds beast to beast as brother. 

Dogmatift. You'll not scream down my reason, 
though, 
By criticism's cavils. 
The devil's something, that I know, 
Else how could there be devils ? 

Idea lift. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway 



FAUST. 



211 



Is guilty of high treason. 

If all I see is I, to-day, 

'Tis plain I've lost my reason. 

Realift. To me, of all life's woes and plagues, 
Substance is most provoking, 
For the first time I feel my legs 
Beneath me almost rocking. 

Supernaturalift. I'm overjoyed at being here, 
And even among these rude ones ; 
For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear, 
There also must be good ones. 

Skeptic. Where'er they spy the flame they roam, 
And think rich stores to rifle, 
Here such as I are quite at home, 
For Zweifel rhymes with Teufel. 4 ^ 

Leader of the music. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in 
trees, 

You cursed dilettanti ! 

Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace ! 

Musicians you, right jaunty ! 

The Clever ones. Sans-souci we call this band 
Of merry ones that fkip it ; 
Unable on our feet to stand, 
Upon our heads we trip it. 

The Bunglers. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, 
too, 

God help us now ! that's done with ! 
We've danced our leathers entirely through, 
And have only bare soles to run with. 



212 



FAUST. 



y a ck-(? lanterns. From the dirty bog we come, 
Whence we've just arisen : 
Soon in the dance here, quite at home, 
As gay young sparks we'll glisten. 

Shooting ftar. Trailing from the iky I mot, 
Not a star there missed me : 
Crooked up in this grassy spot, 
Who to my legs will assist me ? 

The solid men. Room there ! room there ! clear 
the ground ! 
Grass-blades well may fall so ; 
Spirits are we, but 'tis found 
They have plump limbs also. 

Puck. Heavy men ! do not, I say, 
Like elephants' calves go stumping : 
Let the plumpest one to-day 
Be Puck, the ever-jumping. 

Ariel. If the spirit gave, indeed, 
If nature gave you, pinions, 
Follow up my airy lead 
To the rose-dominions ! 

Orchejlra [pianissimo]. Gauzy mist and fleecy 
cloud 

Sun and wind have banimed. 
Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud, 
All the mow has vaniftied. 



FAUST. 



213 



DREARY DAY. 
Field. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 

Fauft. In wretchedness ! In despair ! Long 
hunted up and down the earth, a miserable fugitive, 
and caught at last! Locked up as a malefactor 
in prison, to converse with horrible torments — the 
sweet, unhappy creature ! Even to this pass ! even 
to this ! — Treacherous, worthless spirit, and this thou 
hast hidden from me ! — Stand up here — stand up ! 
Roll thy devilifh eyes round grimly in thy head ! 
Stand and defy me with thy intolerable presence ! 
Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Given over 
to evil spirits and to the judgment of unfeeling 
humanity, and me meanwhile thou lullest in insipid 
dissipations, concealest from me her growing anguifh, 
and leavest her without help to perifh ! 

Mephiftopheles. She is not the first ! 

Fauft. Dog! abominable monster! Change him, 
thou Infinite Spirit ! change the worm back into his 
canine form, as he was often pleased in the night to 
trot before me, to roll before the feet of the harm- 
less wanderer, and, when he fell, to hang on his 
moulders. Change him again into his favorite fliape, 
that he may crawl before me on his belly in the 



214 



FAUST. 



sand, and that I may tread him under foot, the repro- 
bate ! — Not the first ! Misery ! Misery ! inconceiv- 
able by any human soul ! that more than one creature 
ever sank into the depth of this wretchedness, that 
the first in its writhing death-agony did not atone 
for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the 
eternally Forgiving ! My very marrow and life are 
consumed by the misery of this single one ; thou 
grinnest away composedly at the fate of thousands ! 

Mephiftopheles. Here we are again at our wits' 
ends already, where the thread of sense, with you 
mortals, snaps mort. Why make a partnerfhip with 
us, if thou canst not carry it through ? Wilt fly, and 
art not proof against dizziness ? Did we thrust our- 
selves on thee, or thou on us ? 

Fauft. Gnafh not so thy greedy teeth against 
me ! It disgusts me ! — Great and glorious spirit, 
thou that deignedst to appear to me, who knowest 
my heart and soul, why yoke me to this fhame- 
fellow, who feeds on mischief and feasts on ruin ? 

Mephiftopheles. Hast thou done ? 

Fauft. Rescue her ! O woe be unto thee ! 
The most horrible curse on thee for thousands of 
years ! 

Mephiftopheles. I cannot loose the bonds of the 
avenger, nor open his bolts. — Rescue her! — Who 
was it that plunged her into ruin ? I or thou ? 
[Faust looks uoildly round."] 



FAUST. 



215 



Grasp'st thou after the thunder ? Well that it was 
not given to you miserable mortals ! To crufh an 
innocent respondent, that is a sort of tyrant's-way of 
getting room to breathe in embarrassment. 

Fauft. Lead me to her ! She mall be free ! 

Mephiftopheles. And the danger which thou incur - 
rest? Know that the guilt of blood at thy hand 
still lies upon the town. Over the place of the 
flain, avenging spirits hover and lurk for the return- 
ing murderer. 

Fauft. That, too, from thee ? Murder and death 
of a world upon thee, monster ! Lead me thither, I 
say, and free her ! 

Mephiftopheles. I will lead thee, and hear what I 
can do ! Have I all power in heaven and on earth ? 
I will becloud the turnkey's senses ; possess thyself 
of the keys, and bear her out with human hand. I 
will watch ! The magic horses fhall be ready, and I 
will bear you away. So much I can do. 

Fauft, Up and away ! 



2l6 



FAUST. 



NIGHT. OPEN FIELD. 

Faust. Mephistopheles. 
Scudding along on black horses. 

Fauft. What's doing, off there, round the gallows- 
tree ? 47 

Mephiftopheles. Know not what they are doing 

and brewing. 
Fauft. Up they go — down they go — wheel about, 

reel about. 
Mephiftopheles. A witches'-crew. 
Fauft. They're strewing and vowing. 
Mephiftopheles. Pass on ! Pass on ! 



FAUST. 



217 



PRISON. 

Faust [ivith a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door]. 
A long unwonted chill comes o'er me, 
I feel the whole great load of human woe. 
Within this clammy wall that frowns before me 
Lies one whom blinded love, not guilt, brought low ! 
Thou lingerest, in hope to grow bolder ! 
Thou fearest again to behold her ! 
On ! Thy fhrinking flowly hastens the blow ! 

[He grasps the key. Singing from tuithin.] 

My mother, the harlot, 

That strung me up ! 

My father, the varlet, 

That ate me up ! 

My sister small, 

She gathered up all 

The bones that day, 

And in a cool place did lay ; 

Then I woke, a sweet bird, at a magic call ; 

Fly away, fly away ! 
Fauji [unlocking]. She little dreams, her lover is 
so near, 

The clanking chains, the ruftling ftraw can hear. 

[He enters.] 

Margaret [burying herself in the bed]. Woe! woe! 
They come. O death of bitterness ! 



2l8 



FAUST. 



Faufl [softly], Hufli ! hum ! I come to free thee ; 

thou art dreaming. 
Margaret [proftrating herself before him]. Art thou 

a man, then feel for my diftress. 
Faufl. Thou'lt wake the guards with thy loud 
screaming ! 

[He seizes the chains to unlock them,~\ 
Margaret [on her knees']. Headsman, who's given 
thee this right 
O'er me, this power ! 
Thou com'ft for me at dead of night ; 
In pity spare me, one fhort hour! 
Wilt't not be time when Matin bell has rung ? 

[She stands up.] 
Ah, I am yet so young, so young ! 
And death pursuing! 

Fair was I too, and that was my undoing. 

My love was near, far is he now ! 

Torn is the wreath that mould have decked my brow. 

Take not such violent hold of me ! 

Spare me ! what harm have I done to thee ? 

Let me not in vain implore thee. 

Thou ne'er till now sawft her who lies before thee ! 

Faufl. O sorrow worse than death is o'er me ! 

Margaret. Now I am wholly in thy power. 
But firft I'd nurse my child — do not prevent me. 
I hugged it through the black night hour ; 
They took it from me to torment me, 



FAUST. 



219 



And now they say I killed the pretty flower. 
I mall never be happy again, I know. 
They sing vile songs at me ! 'Tis bad in them to 
do it ! 

There's an old tale that ends juft so, 
Who gave that meaning to it ? 

Fauft [proftrates himself]. A lover at thy feet is 
bending, 

Thy bonds of misery would be rending. 

Margaret [flings herself beside him]. O let us 
kneel, the saints for aid invoking \ 
See ! 'neath the threfhold smoking, 
Fire-breathing, 
Hell is seething! 
There prowling, 
And grim under cover, 
Satan is howling! 

Fauft [aloud]. Margery! Margery! 

Margaret [liftening]. That was the voice of my 
lover ! 

[She springs up. The chains fall off.] 
Where is he ? Where ? He calls. I hear him. 
I'm free! Who hinders ? I will be near him. 
I'll fly to his neck! I'll hold him ! 
To my bosom I'll enfold him ! 
He flood on the threfhold — called Margery plainly! 
Hell's howling and clattering to drown it sought 
vainly, — 



220 



FAUST. 



Through the devilifh, grim scoffs, that might turn one 
to ftone, 

I caught the sweet, loving, enrapturing tone. 
Fauft. 'TisI! 

Margaret. 'Tis thou ! O say it once again ! 
[Clasping again.~\ 
'Tis he ! 'tis he ! Where now is all my pain ? 
And where the dungeon's anguifh ? Joy-giver ! 
'Tis thou ! And come to deliver ! 
I am delivered ! 

Again before me lies the ftreet, 

Where for the firft time thou and I did meet. 

And the garden-bower, 

Where we spent that evening hour. 

Fauft [trying to draw her away]. Come! Come 
with me ! 

Margaret. O tarry ! 

I tarry so gladly where thou tarrieft. 

[Caressing him.~\ 

Fauft. Hurry ! 
Unless thou hurrieft, 
Bitterly we both muft rue it. 

Margaret. Kiss me ! Canft no more do it ? 
So fliort an absence, love, as this, 
And forgot how to kiss ? 

What saddens me so as I hang about thy neck ? r 
When once, in thy words, thy looks, such a heaven 
of blisses 



FAUST. 



221 



Came o'er me, I thought my heart would break, 
And it seemed as if thou wouldft smother me with 

kisses. 
Kiss thou me! 
Else I kiss thee! 

\_She embraces him.] 
Woe ! woe ! thy lips are cold, 
Stone-dumb. 
Where's thy love left ? 
Oh! I'm bereft! 
Who robbed me ? 

[She turns from him.'] 
Fauft. O come! 

Take courage, my darling ! Let us go \ 
I clasp thee with unutterable glow ; 
But follow me ! For this alone I plead ! 

Margaret [turning to him]. Is it, then, thou ? 

And is it thou indeed ? 
Fauft. 'Tis I ! Come, follow me ! 
Margaret. Thou break'ft my chain, 
And tak'ft me to thy breaft again ! 
How comes it, then, that thou art not afraid of me ? 
And doft thou know, my friend, who 'tis thou set- 
ter!: free ? 

Fauft. Come ! come ! The night is on the wane. 

Margaret. Woe ! woe ! My mother I've flain ! 
Have drowned the babe of mine ! 
Was it not sent to be mine and thine ? 



222 



FAUST. 



Thine, too — 'tis thou ! Scarce true doth it seem. 

Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream! 

Thy blessed hand! — But ah! there's dampness here! 

Go, wipe it off! I fear 

There's blood thereon. 

Ah God ! what haft thou done ! 

Put up thy sword again ; 

I pray thee, do ! 

Fauft. The past is past — there leave it then, 
Thou kill'st me too ! 

Margaret. No, thou must longer tarry ! 
I'll tell thee how each thou malt bury ; 
The places of sorrow 
Make ready to-morrow ; 
Must give the best place to my mother, 
The very next to my brother, 
Me a little aside, 

But make not the space too wide ! 

And on my right breast let the little one lie. 

No one else will be fleeping by me. 

Once, to feel thy heart beat nigh me, 

Oh, 'twas a precious, a tender joy ! 

But I mall have it no more — no, never ; 

I seem to be forcing myself on thee ever, 

And thou repelling me freezingly ; 

And 'tis thou, the same good soul, I see. 

Fauft. If thou feelest 'tis I, then come with me ! 

Margaret. Out yonder ? 



FAUST. 



223 



Fauft. Into the open air. 

Margaret. If the grave is there, 
If death is lurking ; then come ! 
From here to the endless resting-place, 
And not another pace — 

Thou go'st e'en now ? O, Henry, might I too ! 
Fauft. Thou canst! 'Tis but to will! The 

door stands open. 
Margaret. I dare not go ; for me there's no more 

hoping. 

What use to fly ? They lie in wait for me. 
So wretched the lot to go round begging, 
With an evil conscience thy spirit plaguing ! 
So wretched the lot, an exile roaming — 
And then on my heels they are ever coming ! 

Fauft. I mall be with thee. 

Margaret. Make haste ! make haste ! 
No time to waste ! 
Save thy poor child ! 
Quick ! follow the edge 
Of the rufhing rill, 
Over the bridge 
And by the mill, 
Then into the woods beyond 
On the left where lies the plank 
Over the pond. 
Seize hold of it quick ! 
To rise 'tis trying, 



224 



FAUST. 



It struggles still ! 
Rescue ! rescue ! 

Fauft. Bethink thyself, pray! 
A single step and thou art free ! 

Margaret. Would we were by the mountain! 
See! 

There sits my mother on a stone, 

The sight on my brain is preying ! 

There sits my mother on a stone, 

And her head is constantly swaying ; 

She beckons not, nods not, her head falls o'er, 

So long she's been fleeping, she'll wake no more. 

She flept that we might take pleasure. 

that was bliss without measure! 

Fauft. Since neither reason nor prayer thou 
hearest ; 

1 must venture by force to take thee, dearest. 
Margaret. Let go ! No violence will I bear ! 

Take not such a murderous hold of me ! 
I once did all I could to gratify thee. 

Fauft. The day is breaking ! Dearest ! dearest ! 

Margaret. Day ! Ay, it is day ! the last great 
day breaks in ! 
My wedding-day it should have been ! 
Tell no one thou hast been with Margery! 
Alas for my garland ! The hour's advancing ! 
Retreat is in vain ! 
We meet again, 



FAUST. 



22 5 



But not at the dancing. 

The multitude presses, no word is spoke. 

Square, streets, all places — 

A sea of faces — 

The bell is tolling, the staff is broke. 

How they seize me and bind me ! 

They hurry me off to the bloody block. 48 

The blade that quivers behind me, 

Quivers at every neck with convulsive shock ; 

Dumb lies the world as the grave ! 

Fauft. O had I ne'er been born ! 

Mephiftopheles [appears without]. Up! or thou'rt 
lost! The morn 
Flushes the fky. 

Idle delaying! Praying and playing! 

My horses are neighing, 

They shudder and snort for the bound. 

Margaret. What's that, comes up from the ground ? 
He ! He ! Avaunt ! that face ! 
What will he in the sacred place ? 
He seeks me ! 

Fauft. Thou shalt live ! 

Margaret. Great God in heaven ! 
Unto thy judgment my soul have I given ! 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauft]. Come ! come ! or in 
the lurch I leave both her and thee ! 

Margaret. Thine am I, Father! Rescue me! 
Ye angels, holy bands, attend me ! 
15 



226 



FAUST. 



And camp around me to defend me ! 
Henry ! I dread to look on thee. 

Mephiftopheles. She's judged ! 

Voice [from above]. She's saved! 

Mephiftopheles [to Fauji\ Come thou to me ! 
[Vanishes nv'ith Faust.] 

Voice [from within, dying away\ Henry ! Henry! 



NOTES. 



mm 

1 Dedication. The idea of Fault had early entered into 
Goethe's mind. He probably began the work when he was 
about twenty years old. It was firft published, as a fragment, 
in 1790, and did not appear in its present form till 1808, when 
its author's age was nearly sixty. By the "forms" are meant, 
of course, the shadowy personages and scenes of the drama. 

2 — " Thy messengers " — 

" He maketh the winds his messengers, 
The flaming lightnings his minifters." 

Noyes's Psalms, c. iv. 4. 

3 " The Word Divine." In translating the German " Wer- 
dende " (literally, the becoming, developing, or growing) by the 
term word, I mean the word in the larger! sense : " In the 
beginning was the Word, &c." Perhaps " nature " would be 
a pretty good rendering, but " word," being derived from 
" werden," and expressing philosophically and scripturally the 
going forth or manifeftation of mind, seemed to me as appro- 
priate a translation as any. 

4 " The old fellow." The commentators do not seem quite 
agreed whether " den Alten " (the old one) is an entirely rever- 
ential phrase here, like the " ancient of days," or savors a little 
of profane pleasantry, like the title " old man " given by boys 
to their schoolmafter or of " the old gentleman " to their fathers. 

(227) 



228 



NOTES. 



Considering who the speaker is, I have naturally inclined to the 
latter alternative. 

5 " Noftradamus " (properly named Michel Notre Dame) 
lived through the firft half of the sixteenth century. He was 
born in the south of France and was of Jewish extraction. As 
physician and aftrologer, he was held in high honor by the French 
nobility and kings. 

6 The " Macrocosm " is the great world of outward things, 
in contraft with its epitome, the little world in man, called the 
microcosm (or world in miniature). 

7 " Famulus " seems to mean a cross between a servant and 
a scholar. The Dominie Sampson called Wagner, is appended 
to Fauft for the time somewhat as Sancho is to Don Quixote. 
The Doftor Fauft of the legend has a servant by that name, 
who seems to have been more of a Sancho, in the sense given to 
the word by the old New England mothers when upbraiding 
bad boys (you Sanch' !). Curiously enough, Goethe had in 
early life a (treacherous) friend named Wagner, who plagia- 
rized part of Fauft and made a tragedy of it. 

8 " Mock-heroic play." We have Schlegel's authority for x 
thus rendering the phrase " Haupt- und Staats- Action," (liter- 
ally, " head and State-action,") who says that this title was 
given to dramas designed for puppets, when they treated of 
heroic and hiftorical subjects. 

9 The literal sense of this couplet in the original is : — 

" Is he, in the bliss of becoming, 
To creative joy near — " 

" Werde-luft " presents the same difficulty that we found in 
note 3. This same word, " Werden," is also used by the poet 
in the introductory theatre scene (page 7), where he longs for 
the time when he himself was ripening, growing, becoming, or 
forming, (as Hayward renders it.) I agree with Hayward, 



NOTES. 



229 



" the meaning probably is, that our Saviour enjoys, in coming 
to life again," (I should say, in being born into the upper life,) 
" a happiness nearly equal to that of the Creator in creating." 

10 The Angel-chorusses in this scene present the only in- 
stances in which the translator, for the sake of retaining the ring 
and swing of the melody, has felt himself obliged to give a 
transfusion of the spirit of the thought, inftead of its exacl: form. 

The literal meaning of the firft chorus is : — 

Chrift is arisen ! 
Joy to the Mortal, 
Whom the ruinous, 
Creeping, hereditary 
Infirmities wound round. 

Dr. Hedge has come nearer than any one to reconciling 
meaning and melody thus : — 

" Chrift has arisen ! 
Joy to our buried Head ! 
Whom the unmerited, 
Trailing, inherited 
Woes did imprison." 

The present translator, without losing sight of the fa£t that 
" the Mortal " means Chrift, has taken the liberty (conftrained 
by rhyme, — which is sometimes more than the rudder of verse,) 
of making the congratulation include Humanity, as incarnated 
in Chrift, " the second Adam." 

In the closing Chorus of Angels, the translator found that he 
could beft preserve the spirit of the five -fold rhyme : — 

" Thatig ihn preisenden, 
Liebe beweisenden, 
Briiderlich speisenden, 



230 



NOTES. 



Predigend reisenden, 
Wonne verheissenden," 

by running it into three couplets. 

n The prose account of the alchymical process is as fol- 
lows : — 

" There was red mercury, a powerfully adling body, united 
with the tincture of antimony, at a gentle heat of the water- 
bath. Then, being exposed to the heat of open fire in an 
aludel, (or alembic,) a sublimate filled its heads in succession, 
which, if it appeared with various hues, was the desired medi- 
cine." 

12 " Salamander, &c." The four represent the spirits of 
the four elements, fire, water, air, and earth, which Fauft suc- 
cessively conjures, so that, if the monfter belongs in any respect 
to this mundane sphere, he may be exorcized. But it turns out 
that he is beyond and beneath all. 

13 Here, of course, Fauft makes the sign of the cross, or holds 
out a crucifix. 

14 " Fly-God," i. e. Beelzebub. 

15 The " Drudenfuss," or pentagram, was a pentagonal figure 
composed of three triangles, thus : 




16 Doctor's FeavT. The inaugural feaft given at taking a de- 
gree. 

17 " Blood." When at the firft invention of printing, the art 
was ascribed to the devil, the illuminated red ink parts were 
said by the people to be done in blood. 

18 " The Spanish boot " was an inflrument of torture, like the 
Scottish boot mentioned in Old Mortality. 



NOTES. 23I 

19 " Encheiresin Naturae. " Literally, a handling of nature. 

20 Still a famous place of public resort and entertainment. 
On the wall are two old paintings of Fault's carousal and his 
ride out of the door on a calk. One is accompanied by the fol- 
lowing inscription, being two lines (Hexameter end Pentameter) 
broken into halves : — 

" Vive, bibe, obgregare, memor 
Faufti hujus et hujus 
Pcenae. Aderat clauda haec, 
Aft erat ampla gradu. 1525." 

" Live, drink, be merry, remembering 
This Fault and his 
Punishment. It came slowly 
But was in ample measure." 

21 Froscb, Brander, Sec. These names seem to be chosen 
with an eye to adaptation, Frosch meaning frog, and Brander 
fireship. "Frog " happens also to be the nickname the ltudents 
give to a pupil of the gymnasium, or school preparatory to the 
university. 

22 Rippach is a village near Leipsic, and Mr. Hans was a 
fictitious personage about whom the ftudents used to quiz green- 
horns. 

23 The original means literally sea-cat. Retzsch says, it is 
the little ring-tailed monkey. 

24 One-time-one, i. e. multiplication-table. 

25 " Hand and glove." The translator's coincidence with 
Miss Swanwick here was entirely accidental. The German is 
" thou and thou," alluding to the fact that intimate friends 
among the Germans, like the sect of Friends, call each other 
thou. 

28 The following is a literal translation of the song referred 
to : — 



232 



NOTES. 



Were I a little bird, 
Had I two wings of mine, 
I'd fly to my dear ; 
But that can never be, 
So I flay here. 

Though I am far from thee, 
Sleeping I'm near to thee, 
Talk with my dear ; 
When I awake again, 
I am alone. 

Scarce is there an hour in the night, 
When sleep does not take its flight, 
And I think of thee, 
How many thousand times 
Thou gav'ft thy heart to me. 

27 Donjon. The original is Zwinger, which Hayward says 
is untranslatable. It probably means an old tower, such as is 
often found in the free cities, where, in a dark passage-way, a 
lamp is sometimes placed, and a devotional image near it. 

28 It was a superftitious belief that the presence of buried 
treasure was indicated by a blue flame. 

29 Lion-dollars — a Bohemian coin, firft minted three centuries 
ago, by Count Schlick, from the mines of Joachim's-Thal. 
The one side bears a lion, the other a full length image of St, 
John. 

30 An imitation of Ophelia's song: Ham/et, ad: 14, scene 5. 

31 The Rat-catcher was supposed to have the art of drawing 
rats after him by his whiffle, like a sort of Orpheus. 

32 Walpurgis Night. May-night. Walpurgis is the female 
saint who converted the Saxons to Chriftianity. — The Brocken 
or Blocksberg is the higheft peak of the Harz mountains, which 



NOTES. 



233 



comprise about 1350 square miles. — Schirke and Elend are two 
villages in the neighborhood. 

33 Shelley's translation of this couplet is very fine : (" O si sic 
omnia ! ") 

" The giant-snouted crags, ho ! ho ! 
How they snort and how they blow ! " 

34 The original is Windsbraut, (wind's-bride,) the word used 
in Luther's Bible to translate Paul's Euroclydon. 

35 One of the names of the devil in Germany. 

36 One of the names of Beelzebub. 

37 " The Talmudifts say that Adam had a wife called Lilis 
before he married Eve, and of her he begat nothing but devils." 

Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. 
A learned writer says that Lullaby is derived from " Lilla, 
abi ! " " Begone Lilleth ! " she having been supposed to lie 
in wait for children to kill them. 

38 This name, derived from two Greek words meaning rump 
and fancy, was meant for Nicolai of Berlin, a great hater of 
Goethe's writings, and is explained by the fa6t that the man had 
for a long time a violent afFe6tion of the nerves, and by the 
application he made of leeches as a remedy, (alluded to by 
Mephiftopheles.) 

39 Tegel (mistranslated pond by Shelley) is a small place a few 
miles from Berlin, whose inhabitants were, in 1799, hoaxed by a 
ghoft ftory, of which the scene was laid in the former place. ■ 

40 The park in Vienna. 

41 He was scene-painter to the Weimar theatre. 

42 A poem of Schiller's, which gave great offence to the 
religious people of his day. 

43 A literal translation of Maulen, but a slang- term in Yankee 
land. 

44 Epigrams, published from time to time by Goethe and 
Schiller jointly. Hennings (whose name heads the next quat- 



234 



NOTES. 



rain) was editor of the Musaget, (a title of Apollo, " leader of 
the muses,") and also of the Genius of the Age. The other 
satirical allusions to classes of notabilities will, without difficulty, 
be guessed out by the readers. 

45 " Doubt is the only rhyme for devil,' 1 in German. 

46 The French translator, Stapfer, assigns as the probable 
reason why this scene alone, of the whole drama, should have 
been left in prose, " that it might not be said that Fault wanted 
any one of the possible forms of style." 

47 Literally the ra<ven-ftone. 

48 The blood-seat, in allusion to the old German cuftom of 
tying a woman, who was to be beheaded, into a wooden chair. 

P. S. There is a passage on page 84, the speech of Fault, 
ending with the lines: — 

Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot, 
And trees from which new green is daily peeping,. 

which seems to have puzzled or misled so much, not only 
English translators, but even German critics, that the present 
translator has concluded, for once, to depart from his usual 
course, and play the commentator, by giving his idea of 
Goethe's meaning, which is this : Faust admits that the devil 
has all the different kinds of Sodom-apples which he has just 
enumerated, gold that melts away in the hand, glory that 
vanishes like a meteor, and pleasure that perishes in the posses- 
sion. But all these torments are too insipid for Faust's morbid 
and mad hankering after the luxury of spiritual pain. Show 
me, he says, the fruit that rots before one can pluck it, and [a 
still stronger expression of his diseased craving for agony] trees 
that fade so quickly as to be every day just putting forth new 
green, only to tantalize one with perpetual promise and per- 
petual disappointment. 



Doc. 13 . 



! 




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